and 






I LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 8 



wju/t. -pfUnifl 



=m* 



c i 7 



£ UNITED STATES OP AMERICA, f 




London . 
Frederick "Warne k Co. Bedford. Street ,Covent Garden 



SONGS: 



SACRED AND DEVOTIONAL. 



EDITED AND SELECTED BY 



J. K CARPENTER, 

AUTHOR OF "DEVOTIONAL MELODIES," " SABBATH RECREATIONS 
"WHAT ARE THE WILD WAVES SAYING V ETC. 





LONDON: 
FREDERICK WARNE & CO, 

BEDFORD STREET, COVENT GARDEN. 
1866. 

J 



To 
&fj"e fHetnfltg of 

My Dear Son, 

Joseph Marshall Carpenter, 

in the faith that he has realised his dying words, 
"I believe that there is a tangible heaven" 

1 Educate 

the following pages. 

J. E. CARPENTER. 



PREFACE. 



'TPHE Sacred and Devotional Song Book will be 
found to differ from most other compilations of 
sacred verse, inasmuch as it will comprise, with but few 
exceptions, only such pieces as have been set to original 
music, or are capable of being sung -to well-known and 
approved tunes. Where the airs are original, the names 
of the composers are given ; in the other instances, the 
selection of the tune is left to the judgment of the reader 
— a task of no great difficulty with those who are in the 
habit of selecting hymn tunes. 

As a matter of convenience, the work is divided into 
two parts, — the first is composed of songs of a moral 
and religious tendency, inculcating some religious truth 
or- illustrating some one of the Christian 'virtues ; the 
second, or devotional section, comprises only songs of a 
strictly religious character, in the popular acceptation of 
this term ; these are arranged as nearly as possible as 
their subjects relate to the "rites and ceremonies of the 
Church," as set forth in the calendar attached to the 
Book of Common Prayer. The hymns selected repre- 
sent all the best writers in this class of literature, ancient 



vi Preface. 

and modern, and it is. confidently hoped that, while the 
sources from whence they sprung may be many and 
varied, it will be found that the stream is pure, and the 
doctrine they inculcate that founded on the broad 
principles of Christian faith. 

To those high dignitaries of the Church, those reve- 
rend divines, and others, as well as to the publishers, 
owners of the copyright of many of the songs and hymns 
contained in the following pages, who have so generously 
granted the compiler permission to include them here, 
he begs to* tender his most grateful acknowledgments, 
and to express a hope that the good seed he has thus 
been enabled to scatter may spring up in the hearts of his 
readers and bear fruit abundantly. 

Notting Hill, August 1865. 



LIST OF AUTHORS 

REFERRED TO IN THE FOLLOWING PAGES. 



( The dates in parentheses denote the time of original publication. ) 



^utfjors ©eceasetJ. 



Addison, Joseph 

Akenside, Mark 

Austin, John, (1668) 

Austice, Professor Joseph, (1836) 

1 
Burns, Robert 

Bathurst, William Hiley, (1831) 
Bayly, Thomas Haynes . 
Barbauld, Anna Letitia, Mrs 
Brooks, Maria, Mrs 
Bowles, Rev. William Lisle 
Browne, Rev. Simon 
Bakewell, John, (1760) . 
Bowdler, John, (1814) 
Berridge, John, (1785) . 
Byron, Lord 
Bruce, Michael . 
Beddome, Benjamin, (18 18) 

Collyer, William Bengo, (1812) 
Campbell, Thomas 
Crashaw, Richard 



BORN 

1672 
1721 



DIED 
1719 
I770 



1759 J 796 



1797 


1839 


1743 


1825 


1795 


1845 


1762 


1850 


— 


1732 


1788 


1824 


1746 


1767 


1777 


1844 


1615 


1652 



Vlll 



L ist of A uthors. 



Cotton, Nathaniel, M.D 
Cowper, William 
Chatterton, Thomas 
Coleridge, Samuel Taylor 
Cunningham, Allan 
Clubbe, Rev. W. 
Cotterill, Rev. Thomas, (1810) 
Cawood, John, (1816) 

Dryden, John 

Doddridge. Rev. Philip, D.D. 

Elliott, Ebenezer 
Erskine, Ralph, (1734) . 
Edmeston, James, (1820) 

Gibbons, Thomas, (1784) 

Grant, Sir R., (1806) 

Gurney, The Rev. John Hampton, (1851) 



Hawkeswortb, John, LL.D. 
Herrick, Robert . 
Hemans, Felicia, Mrs 
Heber, Bishop Reginald 
Herbert, George . 
Hood, Thomas . 
Hogg, James 
Hume, A., (16th century) 
Hammond, William, (1745) 
Hill, Rev. Rowland 
Home, Bishop 
Hum, Rev. William, (181 3) 

Jefferys, Charles . 
Jonson, Ben 

Kennick, John, (1742) . 
Ken, Bishop Thomas 
Kelly, Thomas, (1804) . 



BORN 


DIED 


1707 


1788 


1731 


l8(XJ 


1752 


I770 


1772 


1834 


1784 


I842 





l8l4 


I63I 


I700 


I702 


1751 



1781 



1715 


1773 


1591 


1661 


1793 


1835 


1783 


1826 


1593 


1633 


1798 


1845 


1782 


1835 


1744 


1833 


1730 


1792 


1808 


1865 


1574 


1637 



'■637 



1711 



L ist of A uthors. 



IX 



Logan, John, (1770) 

Lyte, Rev. Henry Francis, (1832) 



Mason, John 
Moore, Thomas . 
Moore, Henry, (1806) 
Marvel, Andrew . 
More, Hannah, Mrs 
Mayho, Sarah E., Miss 
Maclean, Mrs, "L. E. L 
Montgomery, James 
Milton, John 
Morrison, John, (1770) 
Medly, Samuel, (1798) 
Morley, Samuel, (1800) 
Marriott, John, (181 6) 
Mason, Rev. William 



Newton, Rev. John 

Proctor, Adelaide A., Miss 

Pope, Alexander . 

Pearson, Rev. Edward, (1806) 

Richardson, Charlotte, Mrs, {1806) 
Richards, Samuel; (1825) 
Roberts, Rev. R., (1806) 
Ryland, John 

Shakespeare, William 
Shirley, James 
Sigourney, Mrs L. H. 
Staite, W. Edwards 
Southwell, Robert 
Southey, Caroline, Mrs 
Scott, Sir Walter . 
Seagrave, Robert, (1748) 
Skelton, Rev. Phillip 
Swain, Joseph, (1792) 



706 


1763 


7.80 


1852 


620 


1678 


745 


1833 


819 


1848 


S02 


1838 


77i 


1854 


608 


1674 



1725 


1797 


1725 


1807 


1834 
1688 


1864 
1744 



1792 



1564 


1616 


1594 


1666 


1 791 


1865 





1852 


1560 


1595 


1787 


1854 


1771 


1832 



1707 



I7S7 



List of Authors. 





BORN 


DIED 


Thompson, James 


I 700 


1748 


Tate, Nahum 


I652 





Toplady, Rev. Augustus Montagu 


e, . . 1740 


1778 


Waller, Edmund . 


1603 


1687 


Wordsworth, William 


1770 


I85O 


Wilson, John 


, 1785 


I854 


White, H. Kirke. . 


. 1785 


I806 


Wither, George 


. 1588 


I667 


Wotton, Sir Henry 


. 1568 


1639 


Watts, Isaac, D.D. 


1674 


1748 


Worthington, Jane T., Mrs 





1847 


Wesley, Rev. Charles 


1708 


1788 


Williams, William, (1772) 








Young, Edward 


1697 


1765 



3Li&mg ^utfjors. 

Adams, S. F. 

Alexander, Mrs Cecil Frances, 

Alford, The Very Rev. Henry, Dean of Canterbury 

Baker, Rev. Sir Henry, Bart 
Banks, George L. 
Banks, Mrs G. L. 
Bennett, William C. 
Bellamy, W. H. 
Blackwell, Anna 
Bonar, Rev. Flora tius, D.D. 
Brooks, Mrs Maria 
Browne, T. B. 
Bruton, James 



Carey, Phcebe 

Carpenter, Joseph Edwards 

Chandler, Rev. John 



List of Authors, xi 



Cornwall, Barry (W. B. Proctor) 
Conder, Josiah 
Cook, Miss Eliza 
Craig, Miss Isa 

De Vere, Aubery 
Dix, William C. 
Dowton, Henry 
Duff, John 

Elliott, Miss Charlotte 
Embury, Mrs Emma C. 

Faber, Frederick W. 
Friswell, J. Hain 

Gould, Hannah F. 
Grigg, J. . 
Grinfield, Thomas 

Hibberd, James Shirley 
Howitt, Mrs Mary 
Houghton, Lord 
Howe, Mrs Julia Ward 
Howe, William Walsham 
Hunt, John 

Keble, Rev. John 
Kingsley, Rev. Charles 

Littlewood, W. C. 
Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth 
Lynch, Miss Ann C. 
Lowell, J. R. 

Mant, Bishop Richard 
Mackay, Charles, LL.D. 
Massey, Gerald 
Macarthy, D. F. 
Mayho, Miss Sarah E. 



x i i List of A utkors. 

Marchmont, Rev. Henry 

May, Miss Caroline 

Milman, Very Rev. H. H., Dean of St Paul's 

Mills, Susan L. 

MonselL Rev. John S. B., D.D. 



Neale, Rev. John Mason 
Noel, Hon. and Rev. Baptist 

Osgood, Mrs Frances S. 

Palgrave, Francis Turnei 
Prince, John Critchley 

Russell, Rev. Arthur To.5er 
Roberts, Elizabeth P. 

Sargeant, Anna Maria 

Stanley, Very Rev. A. P., Dean of Westminster 

Trench, The Most Rev. R. C, Archbishop of Dublin 
Tennyson. Alfred, D.C.L., P.L. 

Watmough, Ernest 

Whittier, J. G. 

Willard, Mrs 

Wilberforce, The Right Rev. Samuel, Bishop of Oxford 

Williams, Rev. Isaac 

Worthington, Mrs Jane T. 



CONTENTS 



^ 


PUBLISHERS. 


PAGE 


Abide with Me, 


Rivington, 


280 


A Child's Hymn, 


Blackie and Son, 


128 


A Child at Prayer, 


Purday, 


IOI 


A Death Scene, 


■ 


40 


Advent Hymn, 


Novello, 


246 


Affliction, 


. 


1 88 


A Hundred Years, 


J. Chafi??icui, 


90 


Almighty God, 


Addison and Co. , 


121 


A Mother's Fears, 
A Morning Hymn, 






. 


1 10 

357 


Anticipations of Heaven, 


F. Warne and Co. , 


380 


Angels' Visits, ■ . 


J. Williams, 


120 


Angel of Charity, 


Addison and Co. , 


47 


An Evening Hymn, 


Rivington, 


366 


A Prayer in Sickness, 


Moxon and Co., 


106 


A Prayer hi Prospect of Death, 


D^Almaine and Co . 


, 106 


A Sunday Hymn, 


Novello, 


37o 


As down in the Sunless Retreats, 


Addison and Co., 


9 


Awake, arise, thy Light is come, 


Addison and Co., 


159 


Baptismal Hymn, 


Macmillan, 


372 


Babylon, . 


Cramer and Co., 


95 


Beautiful Cloud, 


R. Cocks and Co., 


43 


Beautiful Dove, 


J. Blockley, 


99 


Bearing the Cross, 


Novello, 


296 


Before Jehovah's awful Throne, 


Novello, 


242 


Behold the Sun, 


Addison and Co., 


207 



XIV 



Contents. 





PUBLISHERS. 


PAGE 


Be not Afraid, 'tis I, . 


R. Cocks and Co., 


138 


Beneath the Cross, 





293 


Blessed are the Pure in Spirit, 


Metzler and Co., 


169 


Blessed are the Dead, 


Metzler and Co., 


197 


Blessed are those who Fear the Lord, 


Duff and Co., 


355 


Boatman's Hymn, 


Moxon and Co., 


38 


Brightest and Best, 


Jeffays, 


220 


Bubbles under Ice, 


Moxon and Co., 


36 


Burial Anthem, 


Murray, 


210 


By the Rivers of Babylon, 


Lonsdale, 


131 


Calm, . 


'Johnstone and Co., 


273 


Calvary, . 


Novello, 


289 


Christ Crucified, 


Murray, 


288 


Christ Risen, 


A T ovello, 


308 


Christ the Lord is Born to-day, 


Novello, 


249 


Christ the Lord is Risen to-day, 


Novello, 


310 


Christ's Followers, 


Novello, 


35i 


(^ In r i c: f- ' c A QppnQirin 




1 T T 


Christmas, . 





J 11 

88 


Christmas Day, 





247 


Christmas Hymn, . 


Novello, 


252 


Christmas Morn, 


Moxon and Co., 


170 


Christian Coui-age, 


Rivington, 


3i 


Children Praising Christ, 


F. Warne and Co. 


377 


Charity, . 


Jefferys, 


140 


Church Music, 


F. Warne and Co. , 


9 


Come, ye Disconsolate, 


Addison and Co., 


H 


Come not, Lord, 


Addison and Co., 


213 


Come to Me, . 


L. Booth, 


322 


Communion Hymn, . 




372 




Consider the Ravens, 


J. Williams, 


51 


Cradle Song, 


Routledge, 


135 


Death's Final Conquest, 


Cramer and Co. , 


30 


Death of a Christian, 


Longman and Co., 


47 


Delight in the Lord, . 





284 


Different Minds, 


Parker, 


190 


Earth and Heaven, 


Macmillan, 


85 



Contents. 



xv 





PUBLISHERS. 


PAGE 


Epiphany Hymn, 


Novello 


259 


Eternal Source of every Joy, . 


Novello 


345 


Evening Prayer, 


Duff and Co., 


82 


Evening, 


Parker, 


206 


Eventide, 


J. Chapman, 


367 


Fallen is thy Throne, 


Addison and Co., 


177 


Faith, 


Jefferys, 


138 


Fear not, but Trust in Providence, 


Brewer and Co., 


32 


Forgive, bless'd Shade, 


D 1 Ahnaine and Co 


, 27 


For Ever, 


J. Blockley, 


*°5 


For the Morning of the Sabbath, 


F. Warne and Co., 


368 


Footsteps of Angels, . 


Brewer and Co., 


18 


Friend after Friend Departs, . 


Jefferys, 


123 


From Greenland's icy Mountains, 


D ^ Almaine and Co 


,382 


Funeral Hymn, . , 


Novello, 


16 


God Incarnate, * 





300 


God the Spirit, 


F. Warne and Co., 


332 


God's Acre, 


F. Warne and Co., 


54 


Go when the Morning Shineth, 


Jefferys, 


122 


Going Out and Coming In, 


Duff and Co., 


161 


Good Friday, . 


Murray, 


286 


Great God ! what do I See and Hear 


? Novello, 


290 


Gratitude to God, 


J. Taylor, 


285 


Guardian Angels, 


Ollivier, 


93 


Hallowed be Thy Name, 


J. Williams, 


272 


Have Faith in Him, . 


R, Cocks and Co., 


154 


Hail to the Lord's Anointed, . 


Novello, 


254 


Harvest Hymn, 


Rivingion, 


336 


Harvest Hymn, 





339 


Harvest Home, 





338 


Heaven, , 





71 


Hear me, God, 


Parker, 


265 


He shall Feed His Flock, 


Novello, 


282 


He Changes not, 


R. Cocks and Co., 


201 


His Will be Done, 


Purday, 


142 


Ho ! every One that Thirsteth, 


R, Cocks and Co., 


155 



XVI 



Contents. 





PUBLISHERS. 


PAGE 


Holy Ground, 


Routledge, 


175 


Holy Matrimony, 


Rivington, 


375 


Hope in Sorrow, 


J. Chapman, 


215 


Hope and Love, . 





53 


Hope, .... 


Jefferys, 


139 


Hosanna in the Highest, 


Novello, 


3i3 


Hymn for a Child, 


Rivington, 


378 


Hymn for Trinity Sunday, 


Novello, 


334 


Hymn of the Moravian Nuns of Bethlehem 


, R. Cocks and Co., 


223 


Hymn of the Hebrew Maid, . 


Caddell, 


118 


Hymn on the Nativity, 


Parker, 


251 


Hymn of Praise, 


F. War ne and Co., 


330 


Hymn to the Night, . 


Jefferys, 


5 


Hymn to the Holy Spirit, 




329 




Hymn to the Seasons, 


Novello, 


344 


If that High World, . 


Lonsdale, 


123 


Invitation to the Sacrament, . 


■- 


373 


In the Prospect of Death, 


F. Warne and Co., 


70 


In Thee, Lord, we put our Trust, . 


S. Clarke, 


275 


Is this All? .... 


Johnstone, 


115 


I Sought the Lord, 


J Williams, 


142 


Is there an Unbeliever ? 


Bentley, 


178 


Jephthah's Daughter, 


Jefferi s, 


156 


Jerusalem, my Happy Home, 


Novello, 


35o 


Jerusalem, the Golden, 


Blockley, 


4 


Jesus ! Hear and Save, 


Novello, 


270 


Jesus shall Reign, 


Novello, 


314 


Kind Words, .... 


Duff and Co., 


60 


Lazarus, .... 


Moxon and Co., 


221 


Lady Mary, .... 


Macmillan, 


149 


Leaning on Jesus, 


Macmillan, 


306 


Let not the Sun go Down On your Wrath 


, R. Cocks and Co., 


189 


Let me Rest, .... 


L. Booth, 


61 


Little Sins, .... 


Rivington, 


8 






Contents. 



xvi 1 



Like Morning, when her early Breeze 

Light Eternal, 

Litany to our Lord, 

Litany to the Saviour, 

Litany to the Holy Spirit, 

Lo, He comes with Clouds Descending, 

Look Up, . . 

Look Round, . 

Longing to be with Christ, 

Lord of the Harvest, . 

Lord of the Harvest, . 

Lord ! unto Thee we Cry, 

Lord ! who shall bear that Day ? 

Man Honoured above Angels, . 

Magdalen's Hymn during the Plague, 

Mariner's Hymn, 

Mercy, 

Meekness, 

Morn, . 

Morning Prayer, 

Moonlight on the Grave, 

Mountain Prayer, 

Morning Light, 

Music, . 

My Cross, 

My God and King, 

My Psalm, 

Nature and Heaven, 
Nearer, my God, to Thee, 
Never hold Malice, 
New Year's-day, 
Not to Myself Alone, . 

O Fair, O Purest, 
Oh ! had I Jubal's Lyre, 
O happy Saints, 
Oh, Help us, Lord, 



PUBLISHERS. 

Addison and Co. 

Macmillan, 
Murray, 
Novello, 
Novello, 



L. Booth, 



J. Williams, 
Addison and Co. 

y. Taylor, 
Blackwood, 



194 
283 

304 
301 

331 
260 

65 
96 
356 
337 
342 
264 
64 

299 

195 
214 
146 
145 
359 
65 
103 
119 

359 
204 
291 
242 
73 

46 
279 

29 
258 

48 



Addison and Co., 57 
D Almaine and Co., 16 
Novello, 349 

Murray, 272 

b 



Jsfferys, 
Jefferys, 
Novello, 
Duff and Co., 



Moss and Co., 
Macmillan, 

Rivington, 

F. Warne and Co. 



Novello, 
Brewer and Co. 
Roulledge, 
J. Taylor, 



XV111 



Contents. 



O Thou who dry'st the Mourner's Tear, 
Oh, Teach Me to Love Thee, . 
Oh, Weep for Those, . 
On Jordan's Bank, 
On Going to Labour, . 



PUBLISHERS. 

Addison and Co., 
Addison and Co., 
Jefferys, 
Lonsdale. 



PAGE 

143 

170 

360 



Passing Away, . 

Peace, .... 

Pleading for Pardon, . 

Praise the King of Heaven, 

Praise the Lord, 

Praise the Lord of Heaven, 

Praise, oh, praise our God and King, 

Prayer, 

Prayer, 

Prayer is the Soul's Desire, 

Prayer at Midnight, 

Praying Together, 

Prayer for Children, 

Psalm of Life, . 

Psalm cxlviii., . 

Resignation, 

Resignation, . 

Resignation, 

Rock'd in the Cradle of the Deep, 

Rock of Ages, 

Ruth and Naomi, 



Blockley, 

Jefferys, 

Rivington, 

Rivington, 

Rivington, 

Novello, 
Routledge, 
Moxon and Co., 
Novello, 



J. Taylor, 

Jefferys, 

Parker, 



R. Cocks and Co., 

Duff and Co., 

Novello, 

R. Cocks and Co. . 



7 
146 
271 
319 
35i 
241 
236 

55 
108 
261 
187 
267 
277 
127 
245 
125 
181 
190 

36 
297 
166 



Sabbath Morn, 
Sabbath Eve, . 
Sabbath Bells, 
Saving Help . 
Saints in Heaven, 
Seed-Time and Harvest, 
Seeds of Light, 
Since First Thy Word, 
Sire of the Universe, . 
Sleep, 



J. Blockley, 

J. Blockley, 

Duff and Co., 

Macmillan, 

F. War tie and Co., 



Rivington, 
Addison and Co.. 



Routledge, 



198 
199 

85 

45 

347 

67 

3i 

98 

226 

60 



Contents. 



xix 



Sleep, Baby, Sleep, 

Sleep, 

Song of Praise, 

Songs of Praise, 

Song after Labour, 

Sound the Loud Timbrel, 

Sovereign Ruler, 

Sorrow, 

Soon and For Ever, 

Speak Gently, 

Spring, 

Star of Morn and Even, 

Suspiria 

Strong Faith and Perfect Love 

Submission 

Submission, 

Sunny Days in Winter, 

Sunday, 

Te Deum Laudamus, . 

Thanks for a Summer's Day 

The All-Seeing, , . 

The Ascension, 

The Beatitudes, 

The Better Land. 

The Beginning and the End, 

The Bird Let Loose, . 

The Bow in the Cloud, 

The Builders, 

The Christian Graces, 

The Charities of the Poor, 

The Child and the Dew-Drops 

The Child and the Stars, 

The Child's Evening Hymn, 

The Child's Grave, 

The Child, 

The Childhood of Christ, 

The Christian's Progress, 

The Cloud-Capp'd Towers, 



PUBLISHERS. 

Parker, 


PAGE 

162 




176 




Brewer and Co., 


182 


Warne and Co., 


320 


Moxon and Co. , 


141 


Addison and Co., 


383 


Novello, 


243 


Jefferys, 


144 


Rivington, 


183 


R. Cocks and Co. , 


45 


Macmillan, 


4 1 
358 


F. Warne and Co., 


14 


Brewer and Co., 


185 


J. Taylor, 


267 


Rivington, 


354 


Bouge, 


340 


F. Warne and Co., 


369 


Novello, 


235 
211 

234 


Novello, 


Macmillan, 


323 


Jefferys, 


144 


J. Blockley, 


3 




238 




Addison and Co., 


198 


S. Clarke, 


147 


F. Warne and Co., 


43 


Jefferys, 


138 


Moxon and Co., 


68 



Ransford and Son, 205 

R. Cocks and Co., 216 

Moxon, 137 

200 

J. Taylor, 376 

Novello, 379 

229 

& Almaine and Co., 26 



XX 



Contents. 





PUBLISHERS. 


PAGE 


The Creator, 


D 'Almaine and Co. 


> 233 


The Day of Rest, 


Metzler and Co., 


371 


The Death of a Christian, 


Longman, 


47 


The Death-Bed, 


Blockley, 


132 


The Destruction of the Assyrians, 


Jffferys, 


225 


The Dial of Flowers, . 


Blackwood and Co. 


218 


The Dove's Departure, 


Murray, 


92 


Trip "DnTYiVi r^rpnfinn 




179 

381 


The Dying Christian to his Soul, 


Metzler and Co., 


The Dying Christian, 


Melzler and Co., 


195 


The Easter Hymn, 


Novello, 


307 


The Emigrant's Song, 


Parker, 


37 


The Evening Hymn, . 


Metzler and Co., 


3 6 4 


The Fashion of this World Passeth A 


way, Bentley, 


186 


The Glory of Heaven, 


Novello, 


355 


The Happy Life, 




263 




The Harp the Monarch Minstrel Swe 


ot, Lonsdale, 


165 


HTViP TTparl''^ TTnmf* 




i5 
172 


The Heart's Longing, . 






The Home of Rest, 


Novello, 


353 


The Holy Trinity, 


Novello, 


327 


The Hope Beyond the Grave, 


S. Clarke, 


213 


The Humble State, 

The Incarnation of Christ, 




281 

35 


Murray, 


The Kingliest Kings, . 


D. Bouge, 


52 


The Land of Promise, . 


Duff and Co., 


160 


The Law of Love, 


Parker, 


219 


The Last Trump, 


Parker, 


28 


The Lark, 


Brewer and Co., 


207 


The Leaf, 




345 




The Lesson of the Cross, 


J. Taylor, 


298 


The Light of Stars, . . . 


F. Warne and Co., 


153 


The Lighthouse, . . , 


Duff and Co., 


113 


The Little Evangelist, 


J. Williams, 


86 


The Longest Day, . . 


Moxon, 


173 


The Lord's Prayer, . 




278 




The Lost Day, 




6 






The Mariner's Evening Hymn, 


Moss and Co., 


25 


The Marriage Portion, 


Metzler and Co., 


193 



Contents. 



xxi 



The Moon upon the Spire, 

The Mother's Advice, 

The Morning Hymn, . 

The Nautilus, 

The New Year, 

The Old and New Year, 

The Orphan, 

The Orphan's Prayer, . 

The Parting Spirit, 

The Pilot, 

The Pilgrim, 

The Poor, 

The Prince of Peace, . 

The Promised Hour, . 

The Rainbow, 

The Reading Girl, 

The Reaper and the Flowers 

The Return of the Dove, 

The Return of the Spirit, 

The Resurrection, 

The Resurrection, 

The Robin Redbreast, 

The Sabbath of the Year, 

The Saints in Heaven, 

The Singers, 

The Sinner's Friend, . 

The Sleeper, 

The Slave Singing at Midnight 

The Sower, 

The Sparrow's Fall, 

The Spirit's Home, 

The Spirit's Home, 

The Spring of Life, 

The Spring-Tide Hour, 

The Storm, 

The Star of Bethlehem, 

The Supplication, 

The Three in One, 

The Treasures of the Deep, 



PUBLISHERS. PAGE 

227 

8l 

Metzler and Co., 361 

Duff and Co., 167 

Novello, 256 

Deighton, 257 

Longman, 134 

R. Cocks and Co., 28 

Duff 'and Co., 91 

Duff and Co., 200 

Longman, 157 

97 

■ 250 

Snoiv, 318 
Moxon, 151 
R. Cocks and Co. 203 
R. Cocks and Co., 107 
J. Williams, 58 
Moss and Co., 11 
F. Wartie and Co. 312 
Novello, 315 
12 

208 

Novello, 348 

Blockley, Jj 

L. Booth, 295 

Metzler and Co., 140 

F. Warm and Co., 94 

J. Taylor, 343 

Duff and Co., 113 

Campbell, 19 

Duff and Co., 1S5 

240 

Rivington, 222 



Addison and Co. 



5^ 



D'Almaineand Co., 253 

Williams, 84 

Novello, 328 

C happell and Co., 63 



XX11 



Contents. 



The Turf shall be my Fragrant Shrine, 

The Two Crowns, 

The Two Angels, 

The Two Voices, 

The Two Streams, 

The Use of the Flowers, 

The Unbeliever, 

The Unregarded Poor, 

The Vision of Belshazzar, 

The Voice of Praise, . 

The Voice of Jesus, 

The Way is Long and Dreary, 

The Wild Gazelle, . . . 

The Wind in an yEolian Harp, 

The Wilderness shall Blossom as the Rose, 

The Worth of Time, . 

There is a Bleak Desert 

There is a Book, 

There's Peace in Heaven, 

There is a Fountain Filled with Blood 

Thou art with me, 

Thou art, O God, 

Thou whose Almighty Word, 

Thou hast Sworn by Thy God, 

This World is not our Home, 

Thy Will be Done, 

Thy Kingdom Come, . 

Thy Will be Done, 

Thy Mercies are Great, 

To God in Sickness, . 

To Him sing Hallelujah, 

To a Child, . " . 

Too Late, 

Touta Nika, 

Toil and Rest, . 

Trust in God, . 

Trust in the Lord, 

Types of Heaven, 



PUBLISHERS. 

Addison and Co., 

Novello, 

F. Warne and Co., 



Lonsdale, 
Moxon and Co., 
Johnstone and Co. 



Lonsdale, 

Routledge, 

R. Cocks and Co., 

Brewer and Co., 

Addison and Co., 

Rivington, 

Duff and Co., 

J.' Taylor, 

R. Cocks and Co., 

Addison and Co., 



Blackie and Son, 

J. Williams, 

Routledge, 

Routledge, 

L. Booth, 

J. Williams, 

Parker, 

Deightoiiy 



J. Blockley, 



Routledge, 
Duff and Co., 



PAGE 

I02 

316 

82 

79 

5o 

217 

25 

17 

116 

263 

32c 

303 
24 
21 

192 

174 

124 

22 

IOI 

302 
288 
148 

333 
75 
26 

87 
130 
265 
269 

12 

3i7 
8 
8 

133 
236 
112 

27 
99 



Contents. 



xxm 



PUBLISHERS. 



Unrest, 

Veni Creator Spiritus, 

Watchman, What of the Night ? 

Were not the Sinful Mary's Tears, 

We Look to Thee, 

Weep, Children of Israel, 

Weeping Mary 

What are the Wild Waves Saying? 

Where are the Plains of Zion ? 

Where is your Dwelling, ye Sainted 

What shall I render ? 

Whitsunday, 

Whitsuntide Hymn, 

Wisdom, 

Winter, 

Why do the Flowers Bloom ? . 



Novello, 



PAGE 

227 
330 



Novello, 


10 


Addison and Co., 


168 


Ollivier, 


268 


Addison and Co., 


202 


J. Taylor, 


293 


R. Cocks and Co., 


33 


R. Cocks and Co., 


76 


Addison and Co., 


171 


y. Taylor, 


276 


F. Warne and Co., 


3 2 4 


Rivington, 


325 


J. Taylor, 


3S3 


F. Warne and Co., 


93 


J. Williams, 


J 3 



Youth and Age, 



Parker, 



42 



*** Where the Songs are published separately with the Music, it is the name 
of the Music Publisher that is given ; otherwise the Publisher of the Author's 
Collected Works. 



part JFtrst. 



SACRED SONGS 



A. 



SACRED SONGS. 



C&e Better Hanti* 

MRS Hemans.— Music by John Blockley. 

" T HEAR thee speak of the better land, 

J- Thou call' st its children a happy band ; 
Mother ! oh where is that radiant shore ? 
Shall we not seek it and weep no more ? 
Is it where the flower of the orange blows, 
And the fire- flies glance through the myrtle boughs ? 
" Not there, not there, my child . ! " 

" Is it where the feathery palm-trees rise, 
And the date grows ripe under sunny skies ? 
Or 'midst the green islands of glittering seas, 
Where fragrant forests perfume the breeze, 
And strange bright birds on their starry wings 
Bear the rich hues of all glorious things ?" 
" Not there, not there, my child ! " 

" Is it far away in some region old, 
Where the rivers wander o'er sands of gold ? 
Where the burning rays of the ruby shine, 
And the diamond lights up the sacred mine, 
And the pearl gleams forth from the coral strand ? 
Is it there, sweet mother ! that better land ?" 
" Not there, not there, my child ! 



Sacred Songs. 



" Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy ! 
Ear hath not heard its deep songs of joy ; 
Dreams cannot picture a world so fair ; ' . 

Sorrow and death may not enter there ; 
Time doth not breathe on its fadeless bloom ; 
For beyond the clouds, and beyond the tomb, 
'Tis there, 'tis there, my child ! " 



John Mason Neale. — Music by John Blockley. 
ERU SALEM the golden ! 



J 



With milk and honey blest ; 
Beneath thy contemplation 
Sink heart and voice opprest. 

I know not, oh ! I know not 
What joys await us there ; 

What radiancy of glory, 

What bliss beyond compare. 

They stand, those halls of Sion, 

All jubilant with song, 
And bright with many an angel, 

And all the martyr throng : 

The Prince is ever in them, 
The daylight is serene ; 

The pastures of the blessed 
Are deck'd in glorious sheen. 

There is the throne of David ; 

And there, from care released, 
The shout of them that triumph, 

The song of them that feast ; 



Hymn to the Night 



And they, who with their Leader 
Have conquer'd in the fight, 

For ever and for ever 
Are clad in robes of white. 



^pmtt to tlje IJigftt. 

Longfellow.— Music by S. Glover. 

I HEARD the trailing garments of the night 
Sweep through the marble halls ! 
I saw her sable skirts all fringed with light 

From the celestial walls ! 
I felt her presence, by its spell of might, 

Stoop o'er me from above : 
The calm majestic presence of the night, 
As of the one I love. 

I heard the sounds of sorrow and delight, 

The manifold soft chimes, 
That fill the haunted chambers of the night, 

Like some old poet's rhymes. 
From the cool cisterns of the midnight air 

My spirit drank repose ; 
The fountain of perpetual peace flows there, 

From those deep cisterns flows. 

O holy night ! from thee I learn to bear 

What man has borne before ! 
Thou lay'st thy finger on the lips of care, 

And they complain no more. 
Peace ! peace ! Orestes-like I breathe this prayer ! 

Descend, with broad-wing'd flight, 
The welcome, the thrice pray'd for, the most fair. 

The best beloved nisrht. 



Sacred Songs. 



%X)t ILogt 2Dap* 

Mrs L. H. Sigourney. 

LOST! lost! lost! 
A gem of countless price, 
Cut from the living rock, 

And graved in Paradise : 
Set round with three times eight 

Large diamonds, clear and bright, 
And each with sixty smaller ones, 
All changeful as the light. 

Lost — where the thoughtless throng 

In Fashion's mazes wind, 
Where trilleth folly's song, 

Leaving a sting behind. 
Yet to my hand 'twas given, 

A golden harp to buy, 
Such as the white-robed choir attune 

To deathless minstrelsy. 

Lost ! lost ! lost ! 

I feel all search is vain ; 
That gem of countless cost 

Can ne'er be mine again : 
I offer no reward — 

For till these heartstrings sever, 
I know that Heaven's entrusted gift 

Is reft away for ever. 

But when the sea and land, 
Like burning scroll have fled, 

I '11 see it in His hand, 

Who judgeth quick and dead , 



Passing A way. 



And when of scathe and loss 
That man can ne'er repair, 

The dread inquiry meets my soul, 
What shall it answer there ? 



39ag0ittff £ftia£> 

Mrs HEMANS.— Music by John Blockley. 

IT is written on the rose, in its glory's full array, — 
Read what those buds disclose, — "Passing away!" 
It is written in the skies of the soft blue summer day; 
It is traced in sunset dyes,—" Passing away!" 

It is written on the trees, as their young leaves glittering 

play, 
And on brighter things than these, — " Passing away!" 
It is written on the brow where the spirit's ardent ray 
Lives, burns, and triumphs now. — " Passing away!" 

It is written on the heart, — alas ! that there decay 
Should claim from love a part, — " Passing away !" 
Friends — friends ! oh, shall we meet in a land of purer 

day, 
Where lovely things and sweet pass not away ? 

Shall we know each other's eyes, and the thoughts that 

in them lay, 
When we mingle sympathies, — " Passing away ?" 
Oh, if this may be so, speed, speed their closing day ! 
How blest from earth's vain show to pass away ! 



Sacred Songs. 



Rev. Charles Kingsley. 

MY fairest child, I have no song to give you ; 
No lark could pipe to skies so dull and gray 
Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave you 
For every day. 

Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever ; 

Do noble things — not dream them — all day long ; 
And so make life, death, and that vast for ever 
One grand sweet song. 



<3Eoo Hate ! 

Alfred Tennyson.— Music by John Blockley. 

LATE, late, so late ! and dark the night, and chill 
Late, late, so late ! but we can enter still. 
Too late, too late ! ye cannot enter now. 

No light had we, for that we do repent ; 
And, learning this, the Bridegroom will relent. 
Too late, too late ! ye cannot enter now. 

No light, so late, and dark and chill the night ; 
Oh, let us in that we may find the light ! 
Too late, too late ! ye cannot enter now. 

Have we not heard the Bridegroom is so sweet ? 
Oh, let us in, though late, to kiss His feet i 
No, no, too late ! ye cannot enter now. 



Church Music. 



&# 2Dotort in. tljz &unlz$$ l&etreat^ 

T. Moore.— Air, Haydn. 

AS down in the sunless retreats of the ocean, 
Sweet flowers are springing no mortal can see 
So deep in my soul the still prayer of devotion, 
Unheard by the world, rises silent to Thee, — 
My God ! silent to Thee ! 
Pure, warm, silent to Thee ! 

As still to the star of its worship, though clouded, 

The needle points faithfully o'er the dim sea; 
So, dark as I roam in this wintry world shrouded, 
The hope of my spirit turns trembling to Thee, 
My God ! trembling to Thee, — 
True, fond, trembling to Thee ! 



John Milton. 

BUT let my due feet never fail 
To walk the studious cloisters pale, 
And love the high embowed roof 
With antique pillars massy proof, 
And storied windows richly dight 
Casting a dim religious light ; 
There let the pealing organ blow 
To the full-voiced choir below 
In service high, and anthem clear, 
As may with sweetness, through mine ear, 
Dissolve me into ecstasies, 
And bring all heaven before mine eyes. 



ro Sacred Songs. 



flHatcfjmtttt, fcr&at of tfje JfHflflt ? 

Anonymous. 

SAY, watchman, what of the night ? 
Do the dews of the morning fall ? 
Have the orient skies a border of light, 
Like the fringe of a funeral pall ? 

" The night is fast waning on high, 

And soon shall the darkness flee, 
And the morn shall spread o'er the blushing sky, 

And bright shall its glories be." 

But, watchman, what of the night, 

When sorrow and pain are mine, 
And the pleasures of life, so sweet ar.d bright, 

No longer around me shine ? 

" That night of sorrow thy soul 

May surely prepare to meet; 
But away shall the clouds of thy heaviness roll, 

And the morning of joy be sweet." 

But, watchman, what of the night 

When the arrow of death is sped, 
And the grave, which no glimmering star can light, 

Shall be my sleeping-bed? 

" That night is near, and the cheerless tomb 

Shall keep thy body in store, 
Till the morn of eternity rise on the gloom, 

And night shall be no more." 



The Return of the Spirit. 



%\)t Iftetttrn of tlje Spirit* 

J. E. Carpenter. — Music by S. Nelson. 

"And the spirit shall return to the God that made it.' 
RECITATIVE. 

TEN thousand thousand years, mankind may sway 
Nations that rise — and fall, and pass away ; 
But, as a dream in Time's mysterious span, 
The temples, thrones, and palaces of man, 
The world, and all within it, shall decay ! 

AIR. 

A moment, and the dream of life 

That millions of the human race 
With all its realms of peace and strife, 

Its phantasies of time and space, 
Have dreamt for ages, shall dissolve, 

And, all that seems the brightest now, 
To utter darkness shall revolve, 

Like that which fell on Adam's brow. 

A moment — and that fragile band 

Creation gave a vital birth, 
Shall meet corruption's ruthless hand, 

And wither with the silent earth ; 
But, though no living shapes remain 

To mingle with the clay-cold sod, 
The spirit shall return again 

Obedient to its maker — God. 



1 2 Sacred Songs. 



%\i Eolun IBLeHbreasft. 

Bishop Doane. 

SWEET Robin, I have heard them say, 
That thou wert there upon the day 
That Christ was crown'd in cruel scorn : 
And bore away one bleeding thorn, 
That so, the blush upon thy breast, 
In shameful sorrow was imprest : 
And thence thy genial sympathy, 
With our redeem' d humanity. 



Bathed in my Saviour's blood, like thee ; 
Bear in my breast, whate'er the loss, 
The bleeding blazon of the cross ; 
Live ever, with thy loving mind, 
In fellowship with human kind ; 
And take my pattern still from thee, 
In gentleness and constancy. 



^o (Bod in feicfene0& 

R. Herrick. 

WHAT though my harp and viol be 
Both hung upon the willow tree ? 
What though my bed be now my grave, 
And for my house I darkness have ? 
What though my healthful days are fled, 
And I lie number'd with the dead ? 
Yet I have hope, by Thy great power, 
To spring — though now a wither'd flower. 



Why do the Flowers Bloom ? 13 

MMjp Do tfje jfiotoer£ Bloom ? 

J. E. Carpenter. — Music by John Burnett 

" T T 7HY do the flowers bloom, mother, 
V V Why do the sweet flowers bloom, 
And brightest those we rear'd, mother, 

Around my brother's tomb ? " 
" To fill the world with gladness, 

My child, were flowerets given, 
To crown the earth with beauty, 

And show the path to heaven ! " 

" Then wherefore do they fade, mother, 

Why do those sweet flowers fade, 
When winter's dreary clouds, mother, 

Earth's brighter scenes pervade ?" 
" My child, those flowers that wither 

Have seeds that still remain, 
That the sunshine and the summer 

Restore to life again ! " 

" And shall not those who die, mother, 

Come back to life once more, 
E'en as the rain and sun, mother, 

Those beauteous flowers restore ? " 
" Yes — yes, my child, such powers 

To human flowers are given, 
Here earth's frail buds may blossom,. 

But we may rise— IN Heaven." 



14 Sacred Songs. 



H. W. Longfellow. 

TAKE them, O Death ! and bear away 
Whatever thou canst call thine own ! 
Thine image, stamp'd upon this clay, 
Doth give thee that, but that alone ! 

Take them, O Grave ! and let them lie 
Folded upon thy narrow shelves, 

As garments by the soul laid by, 
And precious only to ourselves ! 

Take them, O great Eternity ! 

Our little life is but a gust, 
That bends the branches of thy tree, 

And trails its blossoms in the dust ! 



Come, pe SDigccmsolate* 

T. Moore. — Air, German. 

COME, ye disconsolate, where'er you languish, 
Come, at God's altar fervently kneel ; 
Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your anguish- 
Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal. 

Joy of the desolate, Light of the straying, 
Hope, when all others die, fadeless and pure, 

Here speaks the Comforter, in God's name saying — 
" Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot cure." 

Go, ask the infidel, what boon he brings us, 
What charm for ailing hearts he can reveal, 

Sweet as that heavenly promise Hope sings us — 
" Earth has no sorrow that God cannot heal." 



The Heart's Home. 



<H\t ^eart'0 H?ome* 

F. W. Faber. 

HARK ! hark ! my soul, angelic songs are swelling 
O'er earth's green fields and ocean's wave-beat 
shore ! 
How sweet the truth those blessed strains are telling, 
Of that new life when sin shall be no more ! 

Darker than night life's shadows fall around us, 
And, like benighted men, we miss our mark : 

God hides Himself, and grace has scarcely found us, 
Ere death finds out his victims in the dark. 

Onward we go, for still we hear them singing, 
" Come, weary souls, for Jesus bids you come ;" 

And through the dark, its echoes sweetly ringing, 
The music of the gospel leads us home. 

Far, far away, like bells at evening pealing, 
The voice of Jesus sounds o'er land and sea, 

And laden souls by thousands meekly stealing ; 
Kind Shepherd, turn their weary steps to Thee ! 

Rest comes at last, though life be long and dreary ; 

The day must dawn, and darksome night be past ; 
All journeys end in welcomes to the weary ; 

And heaven, the heart's true home, will come at last. 



1 6 Sacred Songs. 



jfunerai i^mm 

Bishop Heber. 

THOU art gone to the grave, but we will not deplore thee, 
Though sorrows and darkness encompass the tomb, 
The Saviour hath pass'd through its portal before thee, 

And the lamp of His love is thy guide through the gloom. 

Thou art gone to the grave ; we no longer behold thee, 
Nor tread the rough path of the world by thy side ; 

But the wide arms of mercy are spread to enfold thee, 
And sinners may hope since the Sinless has died. 

Thou art gone to the grave, and, its mansions forsaken, 
Perchance thy weak spirit in doubt linger'd long ; 

But the sunshine of Heaven beam'd bright on thy waking, 
And the sound which thou heard'st was the seraphims' 



Thou art gone to the grave, but 'twere vain to deplore thee, 
When God was thy Ransom, thy Guardian, and Guide ; 

He gave thee, He took thee, and He will restore thee, 
And death hath no sting since the Saviour has died. 



Music by Ha?idel. 

OH ! had I Jubal's lyre, 
Or Miriam's tuneful voice ! 
To sounds like his I would aspire, 
In songs like hers rejoice : 
My humble strains but faintly show 
How much to Heaven and thee I owe. 



The Unregarded Poor. 1 7 

%\% SUttrepctieti f*oor* 

Mary Howitt. 

ALAS ! what secret tears are shed, 
What wounded spirits bleed ! 
What loving hearts are sundered. 
And yet man takes no heed ! 

He goeth in his daily course, 

Made fat with oil and wine, 
And pitieth not the weary souls 

That in his bondage pine, — 
That turn for him the mazy wheel, 

That delve for him the mine ! 
And pitieth not the children small 

In smoky factories dim, 
That all day long, lean, pale, and faint, 

Do heavy tasks for him ! 

To him they are but as the stones 

Beneath his feet that lie ; 
It entereth not his thoughts that they 

With him claim sympathy : 
It entereth not his thoughts that God 

Heareth the sufferer's groan, 
That, in His righteous eye, their life 

Is precious as his own. 



Sacred Songs. 



W. H. Longfellow. — Music by George Linley. 

WHEN the hours of day are number 1 d, 
And the voices of the night 
Wake the better soul, that slumber' d, 
To a holy, calm delight ; 

Ere the evening lamps are lighted, 
And, like phantoms grim and tall, 

Shadows from the fitful fire-light 
Dance upon the parlour wall ; 

Then the forms of the departed 

Enter at the open door ; 
The beloved, the true-hearted, 

Come to visit me once more: 

He, the young and strong, who cherish'd 

Noble longings for the strife, 
By the road-side fell and perish' d, 

Weary with the march of life. 

They, the holy ones and weakly, 
Who the cross of suffering bore, 

Folded their pale hands so meekly, 
Spake with us on earth no more. 

And with them the being beauteous, 

Who unto my youth was given, 
More than all things else to love me, 

And is now a saint in heaven. 



The Spirit's Home. ' 19 



With a slow and noiseless footstep. 
Comes that messenger divine, 

Takes the vacant chair beside me, 
Lays her gentle hand in mine. 



And she sits and gazes at me 

With those deep and tender eyes, 

Like the stars, so still and saint-like, 
Looking downward from the skies. 

Utter'd not, yet comprehended, 
Is the spirit's voiceless prayer, 

Soft rebukes, in blessings ended, 
Breathing from her lips of air. 

Oh, though oft depress' d and lonely, 
All my fears are laid aside, 

If I but remember only 

Such as these have lived and died ! 



<&l)z Spirit^ ^ome* 

DUET. 

J. E. Carpenter.— Music by W. L. Phillips. 

FIRST VOICE. 

OH ! the world is bright, and to life we cling, 
For the sake of many a lovely thing ; 
The sunlit stream, and the perfumed flowers, 
And all that makes fair this earth of curs. 
The rivers we stem, the paths we roam, 
Wherever we wander we find a home. 



20 Sacred Songs. 



SECOND VOICE. 

Yes ! sweet friend, but the world at best 
Is only a spot where the weary rest ; 
There's another home that we all must know, 
Brighter by far than this earth below ; 
A place where the weary ne'er shall roam, 
There, only there, is the spirit's home. 

BOTH VOICES. 

We seek that home while we linger here, 
If our souls are pure and our hearts sincere, 
And the spirit that here may know no rest, 
Shall flee to the realms of the bright and blest. 

FIRST VOICE. 
Yet it is hard, my friend, to go 
From a scene like this in the vale below ; 
Here we have fruits, and flowers, and streams, 
As bright as those in the land of dreams ; 
And friends to weep for us when we roam, 
And love that the lowliest cot makes home. 

SECOND VOICE. 
Yes ! but beyond, in the sunny skies, 
Throned amid heavenly mysteries, 
There we may meet to part no more 
From those we loved in the days of yore ; 
There, whence the weary shall never roam, 
There, only there, is the spirit's home. 

BOTH VOICES. 
We seek that home while we linger here, 
If our souls are pure and our hearts sincere, 
And the spirit that here may know no rest, 
Shall flee to the realms of the bright and blest. 



The Wind in an Eolian Harp. 2 1 

%\z Minh fit an (Eoltatt ^acp. 

J. Thomson. 

ETHEREAL race, inhabitants of air, 
Who hymn your God amid the secret grove, 
Ye unseen beings, to my harp repair, 

And raise majestic strains, or melt in love. 

Those tender notes, how kindly they upbraid ! 

With what soft woe they thrill the listener's heart ! 
Sure from the hand of some unhappy maid, 

Who died in youth, these sweet complainings part. 

But hark ! that strain was of a graver tone, 

On the deep strings his hand some hermit throws ; 

Or he, the sacred bard, who sat alone 

In the drear waste, and wept his people's woes. 

Such was the song which Zion's children sung, 

When by Euphrates' stream they made their plaint ; 

And to such sadly solemn tones are strung 
Angelic harps to soothe a dying saint. 

Methinks I hear the full celestial choir 

Through heaven's high dome their awful anthem raise; 
Now chanting clear, and now they all conspire 

To swell the lofty hymn from praise to praise. 

Let me, ye wandering spirits of the wind, 
Who, as wild fancy prompts you, touch the string, 

Smit with your theme, be in your chorus join'd, 
For till you cease my muse forgets to sing. ■ 



22 Sacred Songs. 



Rev. John Keble. 

THERE is a book, who runs may read, 
Which heavenly truth imparts, 
And all the lore its scholars need, 
Pure eyes and Christian hearts. 



Within us, and around, 
Are pages in that book to show 
How God himself is found. 

The glorious sky, embracing all, 

Is like the Maker's love, 
Wherewith encompass'd, great and small 

In peace and order move. 

The moon above, the Church below, 

A wondrous race they run; 
But all their radiance, all their glow, 

Each borrows of its Sun. 

The Saviour lends the light and heat 

That crowns His holy hill ; 
The saints, like stars around His seat, 

Perform their courses still. 

The saints above are stars in heaven ; 

What are the saints on earth ? 
Like trees they stand, whom God has given, 

Our Eden's happy birth. 



There is a Book. 23 



Faith is their fix'd, unswerving root, 
Hope their unfading flower ; 

Fair deed of charity their fruit, 
The glory of their bower. 

The dew of heaven is like Thy grace, 

It steals in silence down; 
But, where it lights, the favour'd place 

By richest fruits is known. 

One Name, above all glorious names, 
With its ten thousand tongues, 

The everlasting sea proclaims, 
Echoing angelic songs. 

The raging fire, the roaring wind, 
Thy boundless power display : 

But in the gentler breeze we find 
Thy Spirit's viewless way. 

Two worlds are ours : 'tis only sin 

Forbids us to descry 
The mystic heaven and earth within, 

Plain as the sea and sky. 

Thou who hast given me eyes to see 

And love this sight so fair, 
Give me a heart to find out Thee, 

And read Thee everywhere. 



24 Sacred Songs. 

W$z MiXb (Eajelle* 

HEBREW MELODY. 

Lord By-rots.— Music by J. Nathan. 

THE wild gazelle of Judah's hills 
Exulting yet may bound, 
And drink from all the living rills 

That gush on holy ground ; 
Its airy step and glorious eye 
May glance in tameless transport by, 

A step as fleet, an eye more bright, 

Hath Judah witness'd there ; 
And o'er her scenes of lost delight 

Inhabitants more fair. 
The cedars wave on Lebanon, 
But Judah's statelier maids are gone. 

More blest each palm that shades those plains 

Than Israel's scattered race ; 
For, taking root, it there remains 

In solitary grace : 
It cannot quit its place of birth ; 
It will not live in other earth. 

But we must wander witheringly. 

In other lands to die ; 
And where our fathers' ashes be 

Our own may never lie : 
Our temple hath not left a stone, 
And Mockery sits on Salem's throne. 



The Unbeliever. 25 



If)e ^arinec'0 GRienntg; %mru 

]. E. Carpenter. — Music by S. Nelson. 

O RULER of the storm, whose might 
Can still the angry wave, 
Thy mercy, through the coming night, 

We trembling sinners crave ! 
This trackless waste, at such an hour, 

That Thou alone canst span, 
Tell us how infinite Thy power, 
How mean a thing is man ! 

O Father of the deep, our path 

Lies o'er the midnight sea, 
Let not the waves arise in wrath ; 

Hush'd be they still by Thee ! 
And as with contrite hearts we bend, 

And bow before Thy form, 
Let not our prayers in vain ascend, 

Dread Ruler of the storm ! 



A. Pope. 

"D EH OLD yon wretch, by impious passion driven, 
-L* Believes and trembles while he scoffs at Heaven 
By weakness strong, and bold through fear alone, 
He dreads the sneer by shallow coxcombs thrown ; 
Dauntless pursues the path Spinoza trod ; 
To man a coward, and a brave to God. 



26 Sacred Songs. 



CS)tg frftlorlti 10 not our l^ome* 

J. E. Carpenter.— Music by N. J. Sporle. 

THIS world is not our home ; 
There is a better, brighter, 
Where sorrows never come, 

Where troubled hearts are lighter. 
We are but pilgrims here, 
Still ever onward trying 
To pass from this dull sphere 
To that beyond us lying. 

This world is not our home ; 

We wander through its bowers, — 
In age amid its thorns, 

In youth amid its flowers. 
But there 's a world of bliss, 

Where those bright flowers fade never, 
For those who are just in this 

To live and bloom for ever. 



%\z Clotrtscapp'to <aCotoer& 

William Shakespeare.— Music by R. J. Stevens. 

THE cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, 
The solemn temples, the great globe itself, 
Yea, all which it inherits, shall dissolve : 
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, 
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff 
As dreams are made of, and our little life 
Is rounded with a sleep. 



Forgive, Bless d Shade. 27 



Crugt in tfje HorD* 

John Duff. — Music by E. L. Hime. 

TRUST in the Lord in sorrow's hour, 
Trust in His high almighty power ; 
Then if thy life be pure and fair, 
Thou ne'er shalt perish in despair ; 
Bright dreams of heaven will cheer thy grief, 
Bringing thee days of calm relief ; 
Thus will thy trust in Him on high 
Bless thy last hour, thy latest sigh. 

Trust in the Lord when wealth is thine, 
Give to the poor who starve and pine ; 
Prayers will ascend to praise the deed, 
Saving the sick in hour of need. 
Hope ever in a peaceful life, 
Shun those who 'd lead thee into strife ; 
Then shall thy days be calm and bright, 
Bless'd with the ray of heavenly light. 



jforgftie, 25le£0'ti fejalie* 

Music by D?' Calcott. 

FORGIVE, bless'd shade, the tributary tear, 
That mourns thy exit from a world like this 
Forgive the wish that would have kept thee here. 

And stay'd thy progress to the seats of bliss. 
No more confined to grovelling scenes of night, 

No more a tenant pent in mortal clay ; 
Now should we rather hail thy glorious flight, 
And trace thy journey to the realms of day. 



28 Sacred Songs. 



%X)t €>rpljan'£ draper. 

J. E. Carpenter. — Music by Franz Abt. 

HEAVENLY Father ! King of might ! 
Place Thy guardian angels o'er me ; 
Once again from sleep restore me ; 
Guard me through the coming night ! 
None but Thee, O Lord ! can guide me, 
Earthly father is denied me ; 

Hear, oh hear, the orphan's prayer, 

Heavenly Father ! 

Heavenly Father ! King of kings ! 

Take my spirit to thy keeping ! 

O'er my couch while I am sleeping, 
Let thine angels spread their wings ; 
In the world a pilgrim lonely, 
Trusting to Thy goodness only ; 

Thou wilt hear the orphan's prayer, 

Heavenly Father ! 



John Dryden. 

AS grew the power of sacred lays, 
The spheres began to move, 
And sung the great Creator's praise 

To all the bless' d above : 
So when the last and dreadful hour " 
This crumbling pageant shall devour, 
The trumpet shall be heard on high, 
The dead shall live, the living die, 
And music shall untune the sky. 



Never hold Malice. 29 



Setiec Solti Malice* 

Eliza Cook. 

OH ! never " hold malice ; " it poisons our life, 
With the gall-drop of hate and the nightshade of strife 
Let us scorn where we must, and despise where we may, 
But let anger like sunlight go down with the day. 
Our spirits in clashing may bear the hot spark, 
But no smouldering flame to break out in the dark ; 
'Tis the narrowest heart that creation can make, 
Where our passion folds up like the coils of a snake. 

Oh ! never " hold malice ; " it cannot be good, 
For 'tis nobler to strike in the rush of hot blood 
Than to bitterly cherish the name of the foe, 
Wait to sharpen a weapon and measure the blow. 
The wild dog in hunger — the wolf in its spring — 
The shark of the waters — the asp with its sting — 
Are less to be fear'd than the vengeance of man, 
When it lieth in secret to wound when it can. 

Oh ! never "hold malice ;" dislike if you will, 
Yet remember humanity linketh us still ; 
We are all of us human, and all of us erring, 
And mercy within us should ever be stirring. 
Shall we dare to look up to the Father above, 
With petitions for pardon or pleading for love ? 
Shall we dare, while we pant for revenge on another, 
To ask from a God yet deny to a brother ? 



30 Sacred Songs. 



2Deatf)'0 final Conquest* 

James Shirley. — Music by Edward Coleman. 

THE glories of our birth and state 
Are shadows, not substantial things ; 
There is no armour against fate : 
Death lays his icy hands on kings. 
Sceptre and crown 
Must tumble down, 
And in the dust be equal made 
With the poor crooked scythe and spade. 

Some men with swords may reap the field, 
And plant fresh laurels where they kill ; 
But their strong nerves at last must yield — 
They tame but one another still. 
Early and late 
They stoop to fate, 
And must give up their murmuring breath, 
When they, pale captives, creep to death. 

The garlands wither on your brow — 

Then boast no more your mighty deeds ; 
Upon death's purple altar now, 

See where the victor-victim bleeds : 
All heads must come 
To the cold tomb ; 
Only the actions of the just 
Smell sweet and blossom in the dust. 



Christian Courage. 31 



&zm of TLitibu 

J. R. Lowell. 

GOD scatters love on every side 
freely among His children all, 
And always hearts are lying open wide 
Wherein some grains may fall. 

There is no wind but soweth seeds 
Of a more true and open life, 
Which burst, unlook'd for, into high-soul'd deeds, 
With wayside beauty rife. 

We find within these souls of ours 
Some wild germs of a higher birth, 
Which in the poet's tropic heart bear flowers 
Whose fragrance fills the earth. 

Within the hearts of all men lie 
Those promises of wider bliss, 
Which blossom into hopes that cannot die, 
In sunny hours like this. 



Cfjngtian Courap+ 

Rev. John Keble. 

OH, shame upon thee, listless heart, 
So sad a sigh to heave ; 
As if thy Saviour had no part 

In thoughts that make thee grieve. 



32 Sacred Songs. 



As if along His lonesome way 

He had not borne for thee 
Sad languors through the summer day, 

Storms on the wintry sea. 

Thou shalt have joy in sadness soon ; 

The pure, calm hope be thine, 
Which brightens, like the eastern morn, 

As day's wild lights decline. 



fear iPot, but %vmt in $vobibzntz< 

Thomas Haynes Bayly. — Music by S. Nelson. 

" A H, pilot ! 'tis a fearful night, . 
■^-*- There's danger on the deep ; 
I '11 come and pace the deck with thee, 

I do not dare to sleep." 
" Go down ! " the sailor cried, " go down r 

This is no place for thee ; 
Fear not, but trust in Providence, 

Wherever thou mayst be." 

"Ah, pilot ! dangers often met, 

We all are apt to slight ; 
And thou hast known the raging waves 

But to subdue their might." 
" It is not apathy," he cried, 

" That gives this strength to me ; 
Fear not, but trust in Providence, 

Wherever thou mayst be. 



What are the Wild Waves Saying? 33 

" In such a night, the sea ingulf d 

My father's lifeless form ; 
My only brother's boat went down, 

In just so wild a storm. 
And such, perhaps, may be ?7iy fate — 

But still I say to thee, 
Fear not, but trust in Providence, 

Wherever thou mavst be." 



M^at avz tlje SjOXIID (LHafieg Paging? 

DUET. 

I want to know what it says, — the sea. What is it that it keeps on sayin| 
—Charles Dickens. 

J. E. Carpenter. — Music by Stephen Glover. 

PAUL. 

WHAT are the wild waves saying, 
Sister, the whole day long, 
That ever, amid our playing, % 

I hear but their low lone song ? 
Not by the sea-side only, 

There it sounds wild and free ; 
But at night, when 'tis dark and lonely, 
In dreams it is still with me ! 

FLORENCE. 
Brother, I hear no singing ; 

'Tis but the rolling wave, 
Ever its lone course winging 

Over some ocean cave : 



34 Sacred Songs. 



'Tis but the noise of water 

Dashing against the shore, 
And the wind from some bleaker quarter 

Mingling with its roar. 

DUET. 

No ! it is something greater 
That speaks to the heart alone ; 

The voice of the great Creator 
Dwells in that mighty tone ! 

PAUL. 

Yes ! but the waves seem ever 

Singing the same sad thing; 
And vain is my weak endeavour 

To guess what the surges sing. 
What is that voice repeating 

Ever by night and day ? 
Is it a friendly greeting, 

Or a warning that calls away ? 

FLORENCE. 
Brother, the inland mountain, 

Hath it not voice and sound ? 
Speaks not the dripping fountain, 

As it bedews the ground ? 
E'en by the household ingle, 

Curtain' d, and closed, and warm ; 
Do not our voices mingle 

With those of the distant storm ? 

DUET. 

Yes ! but there 's something greater 
That speaks to the heart alone ; 

The voice of the great Creator 
Dwells in that mighty tone ! 



The Incarnation of Christ. 3 5 

%%z Incarnation of Cfjrtet* 

Dean H. H. Milman. 

FOR Thou wert born of woman; Thou didst come, 
O Holiest, to this world of sin and gloom, 
Not in Thy dread omnipotent array ; 

And not by thunders strew'd 

Was Thy tempestuous road ; 
Nor indignation burn'd before Thee on Thy way. 

But Thee, a soft and naked child, 

Thy mother undefiled 

In the rude manger laid to rest 

From off her virgin breast. 

The heavens were not commanded to prepare 

A gorgeous canopy of golden air ; 

Nor stoop' d their lamps the enthroned fires on high, — 

A single silent star 

Came wandering from afar, 
Gliding uncheck'd and calm along the liquid sky, 

The Eastern sages leading on 

As at a kingly throne, 

To lay their gold and odours sweet 

Before Thy infant feet. 

The earth and ocean were not hush'd to hear 
Bright harmony from every starry sphere ; 
Nor at Thy presence broke the voice of song 

From all the cherub choirs 

And seraphs' burning lyres 
Pour'd through the host of heaven the charmed 
clouds along. 

One angel troop the strain began, 

Of all the race of man 

By simple shepherds heard alone, 

That soft Hosanna tone. 



36 Sacred Songs. 



l&ocfc'ti in tlje Creole of tlje 2De*p* 

Mrs Willard. — Music by J. P. Knight. 

ROCK'D in the cradle of the deep, 
I lay me down in peace to sleep ; 
Secure I rest upon the wave, 
For Thou, O Lord, hast power to save. 
I know Thou wilt not slight my call, 
For Thou dost mark the sparrow's fall, 
And calm and peaceful shall I sleep, 
Rock'd in the cradle of the deep. 

And such the trust that still were mine, 
Though stormy winds sweep o'er the brine, 
Or though the tempest's fiery breath 
Roused me from slumber to wreck and death ! 
In ocean cave, still safe with Thee, 
The germ of immortality ! 
And calm and peaceful shall I sleep, 
Rock'd in the cradle of the deep. 



3ubhlz$ tm&er gee* 

W. Wordsworth. 

HAST thou seen, with flash incessant, 
Bubbles gliding under ice, 
Bodied forth, and evanescent, 
No one knows by what device ? 

Such are thoughts, — a wind-swept meadow 

Mimicking a troubled sea ; 
Such is life ; and death a shadow 

From the rock Eternity. 



The Emigrant's Song. 37 

%\)t dfoniffcant'g »>ong;, 

Andrew Marvel.- 

WHERE the remote Bermudas ride 
In ocean's bosom unespied, 
From a small boat that row'd along, 
The listening winds received their song. 

" What should we do but sing His praise 
That led us through the watery maze, 
Unto an isle so long unknown, 
And yet far kinder than our own ? 

" Where He the huge sea-monsters racks, 
That lift the deep upon their backs ; 
He lands us on a grassy stage, 
Safe from the storm's and tyrant's rage. 

" He gave us this eternal spring 
Which here enamels everything, 
And sends the fowls, to us in care, 
On daily visits through the air. 

"He hangs in shades the orange bright, 
Like golden lamps in a gieen night, 
And in these rocks for us did frame 
A temple where to sound His name. 

" Oh, let our voice His praise exalt 
Till it arrive at heaven's vault, 
Which then, perhaps, rebounding may 
Echo beyond the Mexique bay." 

Thus sang they in the English boat, 
A holy and a cheerful note, 
And all the way, to guide their chime, 
W T ith falling oars they kept the time. 



38 Sacred Songs. 



For the Boatmen as they approach the Rapids by Heidelberg. 
W. Wordsworth. 

JESU ! bless our slender boat, 
By the current swept along ; 
Loud its threatenings, — let them not 

Drown the music of a song 
Breathed Thy mercy to implore, 
Where these troubled waters roar. 



Saviour, for our warning, seen 
Bleeding on that precious rood ; 

If, while through the meadows green 
Gently wound the peaceful flood, 

We forgot Thee, do not Thou 

Disregard Thy suppliants now ! 

Hither, like yon ancient tower 
Watching o'er the river's bed, 

Fling the shadow of Thy power, 
Else we sleep among the dead ; 

Thou who trod'st the billowy sea, 

Shield us in our jeopardy! 

Guide our bark among the waves ; 

Through the rocks our passage smooth ; 
Where the whirlpool frets and raves, 

Let Thy love its anger soothe : 
All our hope is placed in Thee ; 
Miserere Domine ! 



The Storm. 39 



%\z »>torm< 

Adelaide A. Proctor. — Music by John Hullah. 

THE tempest rages wild, and high 
The waves lift up their voice, and cry 
Fierce answers to the angry sky, — 

Miserere Domine. 

Through the black night, and driving rain, 
A ship is struggling, all in vain, 
To live upon the stormy main ; — 

Miserere Domine. 

The thunders roar, the lightnings glare, 
Vain is it now to strive or dare ; 
A cry goes up of great despair, — 

Miserere Domine. 

The stormy voices of the main, 
The moaning wind and melting rain 
Beat on the nursery window pane: — 

Miserere Domine. 

Warm curtain' d was the little bed, 
Soft pillow'd was the little head, 
" The storm will wake the child," they said :- 
Miserere Domine. 

Cowering among his pillows white, 

He prays, his blue eyes dim with fright, 

" Father, save those at sea to-night ! " 

Miserere Domine. 

The morning shone, all clear and gay, 
On a ship at anchor in the bay, 
And on a little child at play. — 

Gloria tibi Domine ! 



40 Sacred Songs. 



& 2Deat?) »>cetu* 

Phoebe Carey. 

DYING, still slowly dying, 
As the hours of night rode by, 
She had lain since the light of sunset 

Was red on the evening sky : 
Till after the middle watches, 
As we softly near her trod, 
When her soul from its prison fetters 
Was loosed by the hand of God. 

One moment her pale lips trembled 

With the triumph she might not tell, 
As the sight of the life immortal 

On her spirit's vision fell ; 
Then the look of rapture faded, 

And the beautiful smile was faint, 
As that, in some convent picture, 

On the face of a dying saint. 

And we felt in the lonesome midnight, 

As we sat by the silent dead, 
What a light on the path going downward 

The feet of the righteous shed. 
Then we thought how, with faith unshrinking, 

She came to the Jordan's tide, 
And, taking the hand of the Saviour, 

Went up on the heavenly side. 



Spring. 41 

spring* 

A. De Vere. 

ONCE more, through God's high will and grace, 
Of hours that each its task fulfils, 
Heart-healing Spring resumes its place 
The valley through, and scales the hills. 

Who knows not Spring ? who doubts when blows 
Her breath, that Spring is come indeed ? 

The swallow doubts not ; nor the rose 
That stirs, but wakes not ; nor the weed. 

Once more the cuckoo's call I hear ; 

I know, in many a glen profound, 
The earliest violets of the year 

Rise up like water from the ground. 

The thorn, I know, once more is white ; 

And far down many a forest dale, 
The anemones in dubious light 

Are trembling like a bridal veil. 

By streams released that surging flow 

From craggy shelf, through sylvan glades, 

The pale narcissus, well I know, 

Smiles hour by hour on greener shades. 

The honey'd cowslip tufts once more 

The golden slopes ; — with gradual ray 
The primrose stars the rock, and o'er 

The wood-path strews its milky way. 



42 Sacred Songs. 



I see her not — I feel her near, 

As charioted in mildest airs 
She sails through yon empyreal sphere, 

And in her arms and bosom bears 

That urn of flowers, and lustral dews, 
Whose sacred balm, on all things shed, 

Revives the weak, the old renews, 
And crowns with votive wreaths the dead. 



gouttj anti #££♦ 

Edmund Waller. 

THE seas are quiet when the winds are o'er, 
So calm are we when passions are no more ! 
For then we know how vain it was to boast 
Of fleeting things, so certain to be lost. 

Clouds of affection from our younger eyes 
Conceal'd that emptiness which age descries ; 
The soul's dark cottage, batter'd and decay'd, 
Lets in new light through chinks that time has made. 

Stronger by weakness wiser men become, 
As they draw near to their eternal home ; 
Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view, 
That stand upon the threshold of the new. 



The Builders. 43 



Beautiful Clouti. 

J. E. Carpenter.— Music by J. H. Thomas. 

BEAUTIFUL cloud in purest ether sleeping, 
Why should we sigh for a cloudless summer day ? 
But for the tears of heaven that thou art weeping, 

Should Ave have flowers to beautify our way ? 
Earth far beneath, the fadeless blue above thee, 

Throned 'mid the stars, still lowly was thy birth ; 
Not for thy beauty only do I love thee, 
Giver of blessings to the grateful earth. 

Beautiful cloud, all lovely shapes assuming, 

In thy embrace the white-wing'd angels sleep ; 
Why else the silvery light thy form illuming ? 

Sure there their watch our guardian angels keep. 
Thine is the land from mortal vision shrouded, 

Thou, lovely dream, the cloud-wall of the skies, 
Hidest alone the million spirits crowded 

Round the bright throne thou shrin'st from human eyes. 



<v3Elje 3BuHDer& 

W. H. Longfellow. 

ALL are architects of Fate, 
Working in these walls of time ; 
Some with massive deeds and great, 
Some with ornaments of rhyme. 

Nothing useless is, or low, 

Each thing in its place is best ; 

And what seems but idle show, 
Strengthens and supports the rest. 



44 Sacred Songs. 



For the structure that we raise, 
Time is with materials fill'd ; 

Our to-days and yesterdays 
Are the blocks with which we build. 

Truly shape and fashion these ; 

Leave no yawning gaps between ; 
Think not, because no man sees, 

Such things will remain unseen. 

In the elder days of art, 

Builders wrought with greatest care 
Each minute and unseen part, 

For the gods are everywhere. 

Let us do our work as well, 
Both the unseen and the seen : 

Make the house where gods may dwell 
Beautiful, entire, and clean. 

Else our lives are incomplete, 
Standing in these walls of time ; 

Broken stairways, where the feet 
Stumble as they seek to climb. 

Build to-day, then, strong and sure, 
With a firm and ample base, 

And ascending and secure, 
Shall to-morrow find its place. 

Thus alone can we attain 

To those turrets, where the eye 

Sees the world as one vast plain, 
And one boundless reach of sky. 



Saving Help. 45 



j. W. LANGFORD. — Music by Miss Lindsay. 

SPEAK gently ! it is better far 
To rule by love than fear ; 

Speak gently ! let not harsh words mar 
The good we might do here. 

Speak gently to the little child ; 

Its love be sure to gain : 
Teach it in accents soft and mild, 

It may not long remain. 

Speak gently to the young, for they 

Will have enough to bear : 
Pass through the world as best they may, 

'Tis full of anxious care. 

Speak gently to the aged one, 

Grieve not a careworn heart ; 
The sands of life are nearly run, 

Let such in peace depart. 

Speak gently ! 'tis a little thing, 
Dropp'd in the heart's deep well ; 

The good, the joy that it may bring, 
Eternity shall tell. 



Mrs Cecil Frances Alexander. 

WHEN wounded sore the stricken soul 
Lies bleeding and unbound, 
One only hand, a pierced hand, 
Can salve the sinner's wound. 



46 Sacred Songs. 

When sorrow swells the laden breast, 

And tears of anguish flow, 
One only. heart, a broken heart, 

Can feel the sinner's woe. 

When penitence has wept in vain 

Over some foul dark spot, 
One only stream, a stream of .blood, 

Can wash away the blot. 

Tis Jesus' blood that washes white, 
His hand that brings relief, 

His heart that's touch'd with all our joys 
And feeleth for our grief. 

Lift up Thy bleeding hand, O Lord ; 

Unseal that cleansing tide ; 
We have no shelter from our sin, 

But in Thy wounded side. 



Mature anti l£eat>em 

Bishop Heber. 

I PRAISED the earth, in beauty seen 
With garlands gay of various green ; 
I praised the sea, whose ample field 
Shone glorious as a silver shield ; 
And earth and ocean seem'd to say, 
" Our beauties are but for a day." 

I praised the sun, whose chariot roll'd 
On wheels of amber, and of gold ; 



A ngel of Charity. 4? 

I praised the moon, whose softer eye 
Gleam'd sweetly through the summer sky ; 
And moon, and sun, in answer said, 
" Our days of light are numbered." 

O God ! O good beyond compare ! 

If thus Thy meaner works are fair, 

If thus Thy bounties gild the span 

Of ruin'd earth, and sinful man, 

How glorious must the mansion be, 

Where Thy redeem'd shall dwell with Thee ! 



SDeatlj of a C&risftian. 

Felicia Hemans. 

CALM on the bosom of thy God, 
Fair spirit, rest thee now ! 
E'en while with ours thy footsteps trod ? 
His seal was on thy brow. 

Dust, to its narrow house beneath ! 

Soul, to its place on high ! 
They that have seen thy look in death 

No more may fear to die. 



&npl of CJacftg* 



ANGEL of Charity, who, from above, 
Comest to dwell a pilgrim here, 
Thy voice is music, thy smile is love, 
And Pity's soul is in thy tear. 



48 Sacred Songs. 



When on the shrine of God were laid 
First-fruits of all most good and fair 

That ever bloom' d in Eden's shade, 
Thine was the holiest offering there. 

Hope and her sister, Faith, were given 

But as our guides to yonder sky ; 
Soon as they reach the verge of heaven, 

There, lost in perfect bliss, they die.* 
But long as Love, Almighty Love, 

Shall on His throne of thrones abide, 
Thou, Charity, shall dwell above, 

Smiling for ever by His side ! 



N 



il^ot to ®$v$ttf £lone* 

S. W. Partridge. 

OT to myself alone," 
The little opening flower transported cries, 
" Not to myself alone I bud and bloom ; 
With fragrant breath the breezes I perfume, 
And gladden all things with my rainbow dyes : 
The bee comes sipping every eventide 

His dainty fill ; 
The butterfly within my cup doth hide 
From threatening ill." 



" There Faith shall fail, and holy Hope shall die, 
One lost in certainty, and one in perfect joy." — Prior. 



Not to Myself Alone. 49 

" Not to myself alone," 
The circling star with honest pride doth boast, — 
" Not to myself alone I rise and set ; 
I write upon night's coronal of jet, 
His power and skill who form'd our myriad host : 
A friendly beacon at heaven's open gate, 

I gem the sky, 
That man might ne'er forget, in every fate, 
His home on high." 

" Not to myself alone," 
The heavy-laden bee doth murmuring hum, — 
" Not to myself alone from flower to flower 
I rove the wood, the garden, and the bower, 
And to the hive at evening weary come : 
For man, for man the luscious food I pile 

With busy care, 
Content if this repay my ceaseless toil — 
A scanty share." 

" Not to myself alone," 
The soaring bird, with lusty pinion, sings, — 
" Not to myself alone I raise the song : 
I cheer the drooping with my warbling tongue, 
And bear the mourner on my viewless wings ; 
I bid the hymnless churl my anthem learn, 

And God adore ; 
I call the worldling from his dross to turn, 
And sing and soar." 

" Not to myself alone," 
The streamlet whispers on its pebbly way, — 
" Not to myself alone I sparkling glide : 
I scatter life and health on every side, 
And strew the fields with herb and floweret gay ; 

D 



50 Sacred Songs. 



I sing unto the common, bleak and bare. 

My gladsome tune ; 
I sweeten and refresh the languid air 

In droughty June." 

" Not to myself alone," 
O man, forget not thou, earth's honour'd priest ! 
Its tongue, its soul, its life, its pulse, its heart, 
In earth's great chorus to sustain thy part : 
Chiefest of guests at Love's ungrudging feast, 
Play not the niggard, spurn thy native clod, 

And self disown.; 
Live to thy neighbour, live unto thy God, 
Not to thyself alone ! 



James Shirley Hibberd. 

UPON a leafy mountain height two streams came gushing 
forth, 
One bubbled from the sunny south, the other from the north ; 
One leap'd and sparkled joyously as clear as summer sky, 
The purple flood the other roll'd went slowly creeping by. 

Beside the one green rushes grew, and blushing buds and 

flowers, 
Beside the other, men were chain'd in poison-breathing 

bowers ; 
One welcomed sweet wild birds to sing their hymns of praise 

and joy, 
The other breathed the breath of sin and tempted to destroy. 



Consider the Ravens. 5 1 

The one went sparkling cheerily beneath the noonday sun, 
And spread around life, health, and peace, where'er it chanced 

to run ; 
The other was the stream of death with sorrow on its tide, 
And whoso stoop'd to drink therein must Satan's curse abide. 

The stream which gave such joy to all leap'd from a rocky 

well ; 
The vineyard sent the other forth to work a deathlike spell ; 
They both have flow'd for countless years adown the steeps 

of time ; 
One spreading grief and wickedness, the other bliss sublime. 



Conner tlje Iftafcengf* 

(Luke xii. 27, 28.) 
DUET. 

J. E. Carpenter. 

child. 

TELL me, O mother ! if I should store 
This precious piece of the earth's bright ore ? 
Say is it good to hoard and save, 
And sleep, at last, in a rich man's grave ? 

MOTHER. 

Consider the ravens, my gentle boy, 
They sow not, nor reap, yet they employ 
The tenderest care of the bounteous hand 
That scatters their food o'er the barren land. 



52 Sacred Songs. 



BOTH 

It is not good to hoard and save ; 
The covetous man has no honour'd grave. 
'Tis better to part with the precious ore, 
Than cling in pride to a useless store. 

CHILD. 

Is it not well to treasure up 
Gold that will fill the mantling cup ? 
Wealth that will food and raiment give, 
And bring the honours for which men live % 

MOTHER. 
Consider the lilies, my darling child, 
They toil not nor spin in the greenwood wild ; 
And what is thy glory to one of these, 
To God who clothes both the fields and trees ? 

BOTH. 

Life is more precious than hoarded gold, 
Or the food and raiment that 's bought and sold, 
But our lives on earth must so order'd be 
That they '11 lead to a bright eternity. 



%\t Itfngltegt Hfng;& 

Gerald Massey. 

HO ! ye who in a noble work 
Win scorn, as flames draw air. 
And, in the way where lions lurk, 

God's image bravely bear, 
Though trouble-tried and torture-torn, 
The kingliest Kings are crown'd with thorn. 



Hope mid L ove. 5 3 

Life's glory, like the bow in heaven, 

Still springeth from the cloud ! 
And soul ne'er soard the starry seven 

But Pain's fire-chariot rode ; 
They 've battled best who 've boldliest borne : 
The kingliest Kings are crown' d with thorn. 

The martyr's fire-crown on the brow 

Doth into glory burn : 
And tears that from Love's torn heart flow 

To pearls of spirit turn ! 
And dear heart-hopes in pangs are born ; 
The kingliest Kings are crown'd with thorn. 

As Beauty in Death's cerement shrouds, 

And stars bejewel night, 
God's splendour lives in dim heart-clouds, 

And suffering nurseth might ; 
The murkiest hour brings forth the morn : 
The kingliest Kings are crown'd with thorn. 



Anonymous. 

HEART ! take courage, upward strive, 
Higher still, and higher ; 
Faint not, blanch not, shrink not now, 
Heaven is ever nigher! 

Higher aims, and higher hopes, 

Be our great endeavour. 
See ! the glorious guerdon's near, 

Love enduring ever ! 



54 Sacred Songs. 



On ! and reck not of the toil, 
Nor of burthen mind thee ; 

Look up ! its shadow let the sun 
For ever cast behind thee. 

Angels beckon, saints applaud, 
N obly have we striven ; 

Triumph now ! the prize is gain'd 
Of endless Love in Heaven. 



H. W. Longfellow. 

I LIKE that ancient Saxon phrase, which calls 
The burial ground God's- Acre ! It is just ; 
It consecrates each grave within its walls, 
And breathes a benison o'er the sleeping dust. 

God's-Acre ! Yes, that blessed name imparts 
Comfort to those who in the grave have sown 

The seed that they have garner'd in their hearts, 
Their bread of life ; alas, no more their own. 

Into its furrows shall we all be cast, 
In the sure faith that we shall rise again, 

At the great harvest, when the archangel's blast 
Shall winnow, like a fan, the chaff and grain. 

Then shall the good stand in immortal bloom, 
In the fair gardens of that second birth ; 

And each bright blossom mingle its perfume 

With that of flowers which never bloom'd on earth. 

With thy rude ploughshare, Death, turn up the sod, 
And spread the furrow for the seed we sow ; 

This is the field and Acre of our God, 

This is the place where human harvests grow ! 



Prayer. 5 5 

prayer* 

Eliza Cook. 

HOW purely true, how deeply warm, 
The inly-breathed appeal may be, 
Though adoration wears no form, 

In upraised hand or bended knee ! 
One Spirit fills all boundless space, 

No limit to the when or where ; 
And little recks the time or place 

That leads the soul to praise and prayer. 

Father above, Almighty One, 

Creator, is that worship vain 
That hails each mountain as Thy throne. 

And finds a universal fane ? 
When shining stars, or spangled sod, 

Call forth devotion, who shall dare 
To blame, or tell me that a God 

Will never deign to hear such prayer ? 

Oh, prayer is good, when many pour 

Their voices in one solemn tone ; 
Conning their sacred lessons o'er, 

Or yielding thanks for mercies shown. 4 
'Tis good to see the quiet train 

Forget their worldly joy and care, 
While loud response and choral strain 

Re-echo in the house of prayer. 

But often have I stood to mark 

The setting sun and closing flower ; 
When silence and the gathering dark 

Shed holy calmness o'er the hour. 



56 Sacred Songs. 



Lone on the hills, my soul confess'd 
More rapt and burning homage there, 

And served the Maker it address'd 
With stronger zeal and closer prayer. 

When watching those we love and prize 

Till all of life and hope be fled ; 
When we have gazed on sightless eyes, 

And gently stay'd the falling head ; 
Then what can soothe the stricken heart, 

What solace overcome despair ; 
What earthly breathing can impart 

Such healing balm as lonely prayer ? 

When fears and perils thicken fast, 

And many dangers gather round ; 
When human aid is vain and past, 

No mortal refuge to be found ; 
Then can we firmly lean on Heaven, 

And gather strength to meet and bear ; 
No matter where the storm has driven, 

A saving anchor lives in prayer. 

O God ! how beautiful the thought, 

How merciful the bless'd decree, 
That Grace can e'er be found when sought, 

And naught shut out the soul from Thee. 
The cell may cramp, the fetters gall, 

The flame may scorch, the rack may tear, 
But torture-stake, or prison-wall, 

Can be endured with Faith and Prayer. 

In desert wilds, in midnight gloom ; 

In grateful joy, in trying pain ; 
In laughing youth, or nigh the tomb ; 

Oh, when is prayer unheard or vain ? 



Fair ! O Purest ! 57 

The Infinite, the King of kings, 

Will never heed the when or where ; 
He'll ne'er reject the heart that brings 

The offering of fervent prayer. 



<D fair! 3D fure£t! 

SAINT AUGUSTINE TO HIS SISTER. 

T. Moore. — Azr, Moore. 

OF AIR ! O purest ! be thou the dove 
That flies alone to some sunny grove, 
And lives unseen, and bathes her wing, 
All vestal white, in the limpid spring. 
There if the hovering hawk be near, 
That limpid spring in its mirror clear 
Reflects him ere he reach his prey, 
And warns the timorous bird away. 

Be thou this dove ; 

Fairest, purest, be thou this dove. 

The sacred pages of God's own book 
Shall be the spring, the eternal brook, 
In whose holy mirror, night and day, 
Thou'lt study Heaven's reflected ray; 
And should the foes of virtue dare, 
With gloomy wing to seek thee there, 
Thou wilt see how dark their shadows lie 
Between Heaven and thee, and trembling fly. 

Be thou that dove ; 

Fairest, purest, be thou that dove. 



58 Sacred Songs. 



%\z l&eturn of tfje SDofce* 

Genesis viii. 8-12.) 
DUET. 

J. E. Carpenter. 

BOTH VOICES. 

FORTH from the ark the sacred dove 
Flew o'er the deep profound, 
The vast expanse of sky above, 
The watery waste around ! 

FIRST VOICE. 
Did it return, that bird of peace ? 

Tell me, my mother dear ; 
Or, panting for its own release, 

Sought it another sphere ? 

SECOND VOICE. 

No, no, my child ! the dove came back, 

It had not where to rest ; 
The waters wild had left no track 

O'er all the earth's wide breast. 

BOTH VOICES. 
Poor bird ! it flew with weary wing 

To seek its own fair bowers, 
But sought in vain a leaf to bring 

Of one of earth's sweet flowers. 

FIRST VOICE. 

Did it go forth again, set free 
By the dear patriarch's hand, 

And then for ever, ever flee 
To its loved native land ? 



The Return of the Dove. 59 

SECOND VOICE. 

No, no, my child! the God above, 

Who could the flowers restore, 
Sent back a token by the dove 

That they should bloom once more. 

BOTH VOICES. 

Sweet bird! it came on joyous wing, 

To tell of fruits and flowers, 
A harbinger of coming spring, 

And joys that since are ours. 

FIRST VOICE. 

Went it not forth yet once again 

To woo the sun and breeze, 
To nestle in some woodland glen, 

Hid by the summer trees ? 

SECOND VOICE. 

Yes, yes, my child ! th' imprison'd dove, — 

Again it was set free, 
And earth has since been crown'd with love, 

And peace and liberty. 

BOTH VOICES. 
Sweet dove ! with peace upon its wing 

It sought the earth's green bowers, 
And ever since the blessed spring 

Makes srlad this world of ours. 



60 Sacred Songs. 



lUnti ffifflorW* 

F. G. Lee. 

KIND words are like the morning sun, that gilds the 
opening flower ; 
Kind words are like the blessings spread by every summer 

shower ; 
They light the heart with sunny beams — they shed a fulgent 

ray, 
And cheer the weary pilgrim, as he wanders on his way. 

If you have naught to give the poor when winter's snow- 
clouds loom, 

Oh, ne'er forget that one sweet smile may chase away their 
gloom ! 

Remember, too, that one kind word may blunt Affliction's 
dart, 

And softly fall, like healing balm, upon the wounded heart. 

Let us hear none but gentle words — no tales of dismal strife, 
But only kind things whisper, as you tread this vale of life ; 
Then try, by every word and glance, the suffring to beguile, 
And watch them, when you speak kind words, how happily 
they smile ! 



Eliza Cook. 

I'VE mourn' d the dark long night away 
With bitter tears and vain regret, 
Till, grief-sick, at the break of day 
I 've left a pillow cold and wet. 



Let Me Rest. 61 



1 've risen from a restless bed, 

Sad, trembling, spiritless, and weak, 

With all my brow's young freshness fled, 
With pallid lips and bloodless cheek. 

Hard was the task for aching eyes 
So long to wait, so long to weep ; 

But well it taught me how to prize 
That precious matchless blessing, sleep. 

I 've counted every chiming hour, 

While languishing 'neath ceaseless pain ; 

While fever raged with demon power, 

To' drink my breath and scorch my brain. 

And oh ! what earnest words were given ! 

What wild imploring prayers arose ! 
How eagerly I ask'd of Heaven 

A few brief moments of repose ! 

Oh ! ye who drown each passing night 
In peaceful slumber, calm and deep, 

Fail not to kneel at morning's light 
.And thank your God for health and sleep. 



Ebenezer Elliott. 

HE does well who does his best 
Is he weary? let him rest: 
Brothers ! I have done my best. 
I am weary — let me rest. 



62 Sacred Songs. 



After toiling oft in vain, 
Baffled, yet to struggle fain ; 
After toiling long, to gain 
Little good with mickle pain ; 

Let me rest — but lay me low, 
Where the hedgeside roses blow ; 
Where the little daisies grow, 
When the winds a-maying go ; 

Where the footpath rustics plod; 
Where the breeze-bow' d poplars nod ; 
Where the old woods worship God ; 
Where His pencil paints the sod ; 

Where the wedded throstle sings ; 
Where the young bird tries his wings ; 
Where the wailing plover swings 
Near the runlet's rushy springs ; 

Where, at times, the tempest's roar, 
Shaking distant sea and shore, 
Still will rave old Barnesdale o'er 
To be heard by me no more ! 

There, beneath the breezy west, 
Tired and thankful, let me rest, 
Like a child, that sleepeth best 
On its gentle mother's breast. 



The Treasttres of the Deep. 63 

%\z %vza$uu# of tjje 2D£tp* 

Mrs Hemans.— Music by Mrs Owen. 

WHAT hid'st thou in thy treasure-caves and cells, 
Thou hollow-sounding and mysterious main ? 
Pale glistening pearls, and rainbow-colour'd shells, 

Bright things which gleam unreck'd of, and in vain. 
Keep, keep thy riches, melancholy sea, 
We ask not such from thee. 

Yet more, the billows and the depths have more ! 

High hearts and brave are gather'd to thy breast, 
They hear not now the booming waters roar ; 

The battle's thunders will not break their rest : 

Keep thy red gold, and gems, thou stormy grave ! 

Give back, give back the true and brave. 

Give back the lost and lovely — those for whom 
The place was kept at board and hearth so long ; 

The prayer went up through midnight's breathless gloom, 
And the vain yearning woke 'midst festal song; 

Hold fast thy buried isles, thy towers o'erthrown, 
But all, but all is not thine own. 

To thee the love of woman hath gone down, 
Dark flow thy tides o'er manhood's noble head, 

O'er youth's bright locks, and beauty's flowery crown , 
Yet must thou hear a voice — restore the dead ! 

Earth shall reclaim her precious things from thee, — 
Restore, restore the dead, thou sea ! 



64 Sacred Songs. 



Horn, toljo grtjail bear t^at 2Dap? 

T. Moore.— A ir, Dr Boyce. 

LORD, who shall bear day so dread, so splendid, 
When we shall see Thy angel, hovering o'er 
This sinful world, with hand to heaven extended, 

And hear him swear by Thee that Time's no more ?•* 
When earth shall feel Thy fast consuming ray — 
Who, Mighty God, oh, who shall bear that day ? 

When through the world Thy awful call hath sounded, — 
" Wake, all ye dead, to judgment wake, ye dead ! " f 

And from the clouds, by seraph eyes surrounded, 
The Saviour shall put forth His radiant head ;J 

While earth and heaven before Him pass away,§ 

Who, mighty God, oh, who shall bear that day ? 

When, with a glance, the Eternal Judge shall sever 
Earth's evil spirits from the pure and bright, 

And say to those, " Depart from me for ever ;" 

To these, " Come dwell with me in endless light !"|| 

When each and all in silence take their way — 

Who, mighty God, oh, who shall bear that day ? 

* Rev. x. s, 6. f " Awake, ye dead, and come to judgment." 

t Matt. xxiv. 30, and xxv. 31. § Rev. xx. 11. || Matt. xxv. 32 et seq. 



Look Up! 65 



^onxtng: prater. 

John Duff. — Music by E. L. Hime. 

WHEN we awake at early morn, 
And see the sun in glory rise, 
Earth seems to us a scene of joy, 

We smile on all beneath the skies ; 
But peace in heaven alone is found, 

On earth our lives are mix'd with care 
Then let us breathe in holy love 

To Him on high our morning prayer. 

However bright this world may be, 

Our days of joy soon pass away ; 
Man only soars to wealth and power, 

To find his fondest hopes decay ; 
But everlasting bliss above 

Awaits the truly righteous there ; — 
Then let us breathe in holy love 

To Him on high our morning prayer. 



Hoofc <Hp ! 

John Critchley Prince. 

" T OOK up ! " cried the seaman, with nerves like steel, 

J — * As skyward his glance he cast, 
And beheld his own son grow giddy, and reel 

On the point of the tapering mast ; 
" Look up I" and the bold boy lifted his face, 

And banish'd his brief alarms, — 
Slid down at once from his perilous place, 

And leapt in his father's arms. 



66 Sacred Songs. 



" Look up ! " we cry to the sorely-oppress'd, 

Who seem from all comfort shut ; 
They had better look up to the mountain crest 

Than down to the precipice foot ; — 
The one offers heights they may hope to gain, — 

Pure ether, and freedom, and room ; 
The other bewilders the aching brain 

With roughness, and danger, and gloom. 

" Look up ! " meek souls by affliction bent, 

Nor dally with dull despair ; 
Look up, and in faith, to the firmament, 

For heaven and mercy are there. 
The frail flower droops in the stormy shower, 

And the shadows of needful night ; 
But it looks to the sun in the after-hour, 

And takes full measure of light. 

" Look up ! " sad man, by adverses brought 

From high unto low estate ; 
Play not with the bane of corrosive thought, 

Nor murmur at chance and fate ; 
Renew thy hopes, look the world in the face, 

For it helps not those who repine, — 
Press on, and its voice will amend thy pace, — .. 

Succeed, and its homage is thine. 

" Look up ! " great crowd, who are foremost set 

In the changeful " Battle of Life," 
Some days of calm may reward ye yet 

For years of allotted strife. 
Look up, and beyond, there 's a guerdon there 

For the humble and pure of heart ; 
Fruition of joys unalloy'd by care, 

Of peace that can never depart. 



Seedtime and Harvest, 6j 

" Look up !" large spirit, by heaven inspired, 

Thou rare and expansive soul ! 
Look up with endeavour and zeal untired, 

And strive for the loftiest goal. 
Look up, and encourage the kindred throng, 

Who toil up the slopes behind, 
To follow, and hail with triumphant song 

The holier regions of mind. 



feeetittme anti tartest* 

Elizabeth P. Roberts. 

CHEER thee ! faint and weary one, 
Wearied with the sowing, 
On the rugged paths of life, 

Tears from eyes o'ernowing. 
Deem not one is shed in vain; 
Doth not heaven's gentle rain 

Set earth's blossoms, blowing ? 

Thou mast learn on Nature's page 

How, from present sorrow, 
Loving faith and noble trust, 

Future good may borrow — 
That, how dark soe'er the cloud 
Folds our sun-god in a shroud, 
He must rise to-morrow. 

Sow in Faith, or tears, or seed, 

O'er thy pathway flinging ; 
Then await the rich reward 

From these germs upspringing. 
Over each God's angel bends, 
To the earth-born flower He tends, 
Dew and sunshine bringing. 



68 Sacred Songs. 



Sow in Hope — no dark despair 
Mingled with thy weeping ; 

Sad may be the seedtime here, 
Joy awaits the reaping. 

He who wept for human woe 

Deems thy tear-drops as they flow 
Worthy of His keeping. 

But, o'er all things, sow in Love, 
Hand and heart o'erflowing ; 

Soon, O faint and weary one ! 
Thou shalt cease from sowing. 

And, behold each seedtime tear, 

"• First the blade and then the ear," 
In GOD'S harvest growing ! 



%iz CJaritfeg of rtje ^Boor, 

Lord Houghton. 

THERE is a thought so purely blest, 
That to its use I oft repair, 
When evil breaks my spirit's rest, 
And pleasure is but varied care ; 
A thought to gild the stormiest skies, 

To deck with flowers the bleakest moor- 
A thought whose home is paradise — 
The charities of poor to poor. 

It were not for the rich to blame, 

If they, whom fortune seems to scorn, 

Should vent their ill-content and shame 
On others less or more forlorn : 






The Charities of the Poor. 69 

But, that the veriest needs of life 

Should be dispensed with freer hand, 

Than all their stores and treasures rife- 
Is not for them to understand. 

To give the strangers children bread, 

Of your precarious board the spoil — 
To watch your helpless neighbour's bed } 

And sleepless, meet the morrow's toil ; 
The gifts, not proffer'd once alone, 

The daily sacrifice of years — 
And when all else to give is gone, 

The precious gifts of love and tears. 

Therefore lament not, honest soul ! 

That Providence holds back from thee 
The means thou mightst so well control— 

The luxuries of charity. 
Manhood is nobler, as thou art ; 

And should some chance thy coffers fill. 
How art thou sure to keep thy heart, 

To hold unchanged thy loving will ? 

Wealth, like all other power, is blind, 

And bears a poison in its core, 
To taint the best, if feeble mind, 

And madden that debased before. 
It is the battle, not the prize, 

That fills the hero's breast with joy j 
And industry the bliss supplies 

Which mere possession might destroy. 



70 Sacred Songs. 



In t\z ^rogpect of 2Deatf). 

Robert Burns. 

"\ T 7HY am I loath to leave this earthly scene ? 

* * Have I so found it full of pleasing charms ? 
Some drops of joy, with draughts of ill between : 

Some gleams of sunshine 'mid renewing storms : 
Is it departing pangs my soul alarms ? 

Or death's unlovely, dreary, dark abode ? 
For guilt, for guilt, my terrors are in arms ; 

I tremble to approach an angry God, 
And justly smart beneath His sin-avenging rod. ■ 

Fain would I say, " Forgive my foul offence ! " 

Fain promise never more to disobey ; 
But, should my Author health again dispense, 

Again I might desert fair virtue's way ; 
Again in folly's path might go astray ! 

Again exalt the brute, and sink the man ; 
Then how should I for heavenly mercy pray, 

Who act so counter heavenly mercy's plan ? 
Who sin so oft have mourn' d, yet to temptation ran. 

O Thou, great Governor of all below ! 

If I may dare a lifted eye to Thee, 
Thy nod can make the tempest cease to blow, 

Or still the tumult of the raging sea : 
With that controlling power assist e'en me, 

Those headlong furious passions to confine ; 
For all unfit I feel my powers to be, 

To rule their torrent in th' allow'd line : 
Oh, aid me with Thy help, Omnipotence Divine. 



Heaven. J r 



Anonymous. 

Every ship is a romantic object except that we sail in. Embark, and the 
romance quits our vessel and hangs on every other sail on the horizon." 

Emerson. 

ROUND about and round about 
Heaven ever lies, 
Blooming in the verdant grass, 
Shining in the skies. 

In the vistas of the wood 

Where the sunlight gleams, 
In the water-lilied creek 

Of the murmuring streams. 

In the deep and winding lane 

Arch'd with hazel boughs, 
In the blustering March wind 

Fill'd with the rook's carouse. 

In the whispers of the breeze 

Blowing from the hills, 
In the blackbird's welcome song — 

The first song that he trills. 

By the ever-echoing shore, 

By the salt sea sit, 
Watch the distant, shadowy sail 

O'er the billow flit. 

On that bright and boundless main 

Heaven surely lies, 
Mount the bark and sail away 

To where it meets the skies. 



72 Sacred Songs. 



Turn — behold that peaceful shore, 

The ruin on the hill, 
The upland farm, the pointing spire, 

Gray cliff, and busy mill. 

Shoreward stretch your longing arms ; 

Sighing swells your heart ; 
" Ah, wherefore from that lovely shore, 

Ah, wherefore did I part ! " 

Round about and round about 

Heaven ever lies, 
But the best heaven is within 

The bosom of the wise. 

Yet 'tis not strange this longing, 

So constant and so fond, 
To grasp at all the beautiful 

Which lies around, beyond. 

The soul is of the Infinite, 

Though held in earth's embrace, 

And well it knows that everywhere 
Shall be its dwelling place. 

'Tis ever struggling to free 

From earth its heavenly essence, 

With here and there unsatisfied 
It longs for Omnipresence. 



My Psalm. 73 



®%y ^galnu 

J. G. Whittier. 

I MOURN no more my vanish' d years 
Beneath a tender rain, 
An April rain of smiles and tears, 
My heart is young again. 

The west winds blow, and singing low, 

I hear the glad streams run, 
The windows of my soul I throw 

Wide open to the sun. 

No longer forward, nor behind, 

I look in hope and fear : 
But grateful, take the good I find, 

The best of now, and here. 

I plough no more a desert land 

For harvest, weed and tare ; 
The manna dropping from God's hand 

Rebukes my painful care. 

I break my pilgrim staff, I lay 

Aside the toiling oar ; 
The angel sought so far away 

I welcome at my door. 

The airs of spring may never play 
. Among the ripening corn, 
Nor freshness of the flowers of May 
Blow through the autumn morn ; 

Yet shall the blue-eyed gentian look 
Through fringed lids to heaven, 

And the pale aster in the brook 
Shall see its image given : 



74 Sacred Songs. 



The woods shall wear their robes of praise, 

The south wind softly sigh, 
And sweet calm days in golden haze 

Melt down the amber sky. 

Not less shall manly deed and word 

Rebuke an age of wrong : 
The graven flowers that wreathe the sword 

Make not the blade less strong. 

Enough that blessings undeserved 
Have mark'd my erring track, 

That wheresoe'er my feet have swerved, 
His chastening turn'd me back. 

That more and more a Providence 

Of love is understood, 
Making the springs of time and sense 

Sweet with eternal good. 

That death seems but a cover'd way, 

Which opens into light, 
Wherein no blinded child can stray 

Beyond the Father's sight. 



That care and trial seem at last, 
Through memory's sunset air, 

Like mountain ranges overpast 
In purple distance fair. 

That all the jarring notes of life 
Seem blending in a psalm, 

And all the angles of its strife 
Slow rounding into calm. 

And so the shadows fall apart, 
And so the west winds play ; 

And all the windows of my heart 
I open to this day. 



Thou hast Sworn by thy God, my Jeanie. 75 

d)Ott Ijagt &toorn bj tf)£ (Bon, mp Jeanie, 

Allan Cunningham. 

THOU hast sworn by thy God, my Jeanie, 
By that pretty white hand o' thine, 
And by a' the lowing stars in heaven, 

That thou wad aye be mine ; 
And I hae sworn by my God, my Jeanie, 

And by that kind heart o' thine, 
By a' the stars sown thick ower heaven, 
That thou wad aye be mine. 

Then foul fa' the hands that loose sic bands, 

And the heart that wad part sic love ; 
But there 's nae hand can loose my band 

But the finger of God above. 
Though the wee, wee cot maun be my bield, 

And my claithing e'er sae mean, 
I wad lap me up rich i' the faulds o' luve, 

Heaven's armfu' o' my Jean. 

Her white arm wad be a pillow for me, 

Fu' safter than the down, 
And Luve wad winnow ower us his kind, kind wings. 

And sweetly I '11 sleep an' soun'. 
Come here to me, thou lass o' my luve. 

Come here and kneel wi' me ; 
The morn is fu' o' the presence o' God, 

And I canna pray without thee. 

The morn wind is sweet 'mang the beds o' new flowers, 

The wee birds sing kindlie an' hie ; 
Our gudeman leans ower his kale-yard dyke, 

And a blythe auld bodie is he. 



J 6 Sacred Songs. 



Wi' the holie psalmodie ; 
And thou maun speak o' me to thy God, 
And I will speak o' thee. 



Ml)tvz are tlje plaint of Zfon> 

DUET. 

J. E. Carpenter. — Music by Sir H. R. Bishop. 

SISTER. 

WHERE are the plains of Zion — 
Where is the promised land ? 
Where angel footsteps wander, 

1 long to join their band ; 
Look, where the glassy waters 
Glow 'neath the golden sky, 
Is that the spirit region 
We go to when we die ? 

BROTHER. 

Yes, where the clouds are floating, 

That look like gates of pearl, 
Beyond those radiant portals, 

'Tis there, my gentle girl ; 
There is the realm of freedom, 

Where we for evermore 
May dwell, when angels bear us 

To that celestial shore. 

BOTH. 
Yes, there are the plains of Zion — 

There is the promised land 
Where angel footsteps wander 

Upon the golden strand. 



The Si?igers. yy 



SISTER. 

I 've seen those angels near me, 

They come to me in sleep, 
They often sit beside me, 

When I my vigils keep ; 
And then I dream they v\ aft me, 

The silent air along, 
And I, ere long, am going 

To join the angel throng. 

BROTHER. 

Yes, where those golden portals 

Shut out the realms of day, 
I know the white-robed angels 

Will bear thy soul away ; 
E'en now they 're hovering o'er thee, 

Their glitterings wings I see ; 
The earth they only visit 

To wait for such as thee. 

BOTH. 

Yes, there are, &c. 



H. W. Longfellow.— Music by J. Biockley. 

GOD sent His singers upon earth 
With songs of sadness and of mirth, 
That they might touch the hearts of men, 
And bring them back to heaven again. 



7 8 Sacred Songs. 



The first, a youth with soul of fire, 

Held, in his hand a golden lyre ; 

Through groves he wander' d, and by streams, 

Playing the music of our dreams. 

The second, with a bearded face, 
Stood singing in the market-place, 
And stirr'd with accents deep and loud 
The hearts of all the listening crowd. 

A gray old man, the third and last, 
Sang in cathedrals dim and vast, 
While the majestic organ roll'd 
Contrition from its mouths of gold. 

And those who heard the singers three 
Disputed which the best might be ; 
For still their music seem'd to start 
Discordant echoes in each heart. 

Eut the great Master said, " I see 

No best in kind, but in degree ; 

I gave a various gift to each, 

To charm, to strengthen, and to teach. 

" These are the three great chords of night, 
And he whose ear is tuned aright 
Will hear no discord in the three, 
But the most perfect harmony." 



The Two Voices. 79 



die Cloo Foicejaf* 

Ernest Watmough. 

EVER are two voices speaking, 
With a solemn strain to me, 
And to them my heart is beating, 
Silently, responsively. 

Thus the first to me is telling, 
And its tones so low, so clear, 

Fall with slow and measured accent 
On my anxious listening ear. 

" Life away is swiftly fleeting ; 

Seize it while 'tis yet thine own ; 
Thou canst not recall a moment, 

When away from thee 'tis flown. 

" Why then should a load of sorrow 
Ever cloud thy brow with gloom ? 

When on earth awakes the morrow 
Thou mayst sleep within the tomb. 

" Taste of life while yet the- power 
To enjoy its charms are thine ; 

For to all must come an hour 

When life's sun no more will shine." 

But the second voice is breathing, 
Truly 'tis a " still small voice," 

And- its whispers softly wreathing, 
Bid my sinking soul rejoice. 



Ever hasting to the grave : 
Still it is a cause of greeting 
To the virtuously brave. 



8o Sacred Songs. 



" Look not back upon the hours 

Which in youth and folly fled, 
For thou never canst recall them 

From the dim and shadowy dead. 

" Thou hast but the present moments 

Given to thee as thine own ; 
Use them, live, and act within them, 

That thou mourn'st not when they 're gone. 

" Manfully go meet the future, 

Though around dark clouds may lower ; 
Thou shalt conquer, if thy creed be 

In the word ' EXCELSIOR.' 

" Life is but a Field of Battle 

That to every man is given, 
Where he may, by fighting upwards, 

Win the path that leads to heaven." 



Hfttle %>in$. 

Rev. J. Keble. 

LOOK westward, pensive little one, 
How the bright hues together run, 
Around where late the waning sun 

Sank in his evening cloud. 
Or eastward turn thee, and admire 
How linger yet the showers of fire, 
Deep in each fold, high on each spire 
Of yonder mountain proud. 



The Mother 's A dvice. 8 1 

Thou seest it not : an envious screen, 
A fluttering leaflet, floats between 
Thee and that fair mysterious scene, 

A veil too near thine eye. 
One finger's breadth at hand will mar 
A world of light in heaven afar, 
A mote eclipse a glorious star,. 

An eyelid hide the sky. 



J. E. Carpenter. 

TAKE your Bible with you, dear one, 
Come what will — till life shall end, 
Still be guided by its precepts, 

Then the Lord will be your friend : 
Mother's voice no more may cheer you, 

But our Father dwells above. 
In the hour of thy affliction 
Think how boundless is His love. 

Deep may be thy bitter anguish ; 

Christ who died our souls to save, 
He was scourged^ but suffer'd meekly, 

Now he 's risen from the grave : 
Win thy right to share redemption 

By thy faith in Jesus' love ; — 
There 's no toil, but endless freedom, 

In the boundless realms above. 



82 Sacred Songs. 



(Etiening prager* 

John Duff. — Music by E. L. Hime. 

WHEN through the day we meet with care, 
And struggle on in this brief life, 
When oft we see fierce passions rise, 

And friends are mingled in the strife ; 
How sweet it is to look on high, 
To seek for consolation there, 
How blest the tranquil hour we feel 
When we invoke our evening prayer. 

'Tis then the heart 's with sorrow press'd 

By trials that we meet with here, 
Forget their grief, and fondly hope 

For solace in a brighter sphere : 
We feel no more the heavy cloud 

That would have brought us to despair ; 
But calmly trust in Him on high, 

To whom we raise our evening prayer. 



H. W. Longfellow. 

TWO angels, one of Life, and one of Death, 
Pass'd o'er our village as the morning broke ; 
The dawn was on their faces, and beneath 

The sombre houses hearsed with plumes of smoke. 

Their attitude and aspect were the same, 

Alike their features and their robes of white ; 

But one was crown'd with amaranth, as with flame, 
And one with asphodels, like flakes of light. 



The Two Angels. 83 

I saw them pause on their celestial way ; 

Then said I, with deep fear and doubt oppress'd : 
" Beat not so loud, my heart, lest thou betray 

The place where thy beloved are at rest ! " 

And he who wore the crown of asphodels, 
Descending, at my door began to knock, 

And my soul sank within me, as in wells 

The waters sink before an earthquake's shock. 

I recognised the nameless agony, 
The terror and the tremor and the pain, 

That oft before had fill'd or haunted me, 
And now return'd with threefold strength again. 

The door I open'd to my heavenly guest, 
And listen' d, for I thought I heard God's voice ; 

And, knowing whatsoe'er He sent was best, 
Dared neither to lament nor to rejoice. 

Then with a smile, that fill'd. the house with light, 
" My errand is not Death, but Life," he said ; 

And ere I answer'd, passing out of sight, 
On his celestial embassy he sped. 

'Twas at thy door, O friend ! and not at mine, 

The angel with the amaranthine wreath, 
Pausing, descended, and with voice divine, 

Whisper'd a word that had a sound like Death. 

Then fell upon the house a sudden gloom, 
A shadow on those features fair and thin ; 

And softly, from that hush'd and darken'd room, 
Two angels issued, where but one went in. 



84 Sacred Songs. 



All is of God ! if He but wave His hand, 

The mists collect, the rain falls thick and loud, 

Till, with a smile of light on sea and land, 
Lo ! He looks back from the departing cloud. 

Angels of Life and Death alike are His ; 

Without His leave they pass no threshold o'er 
Who, then, would wish or dare, believing this, 

Against His messengers to shut the door ? 



%\)t &upplfcatioiu 

{In Temptation?) 
J. E. Carpenter. 

GOD above, look down upon me, 
Grant me strength this grief to bear 
Well I know Thy Son, my Saviour, 

Cried aloud in His despair ; 
There is no one nigh to aid me, 

Here no blessed light may shine, 
They would blight the soul within me, 
Let the victory be mine. 

God above ! the} 7 told me, vainly 

It would be on Thee to call, 
But I know Thou 'It not desert me — 

Then indeed 'twere darkness all ; 
Distant though the light is burning, 

Still I see it dimly shine, 
I can bear this great temptation, 

So the victory be mine. 



Earth and Heaven. 85 

feabtmtf) %z\\$+ 

W. E. Staite. — Music by C. Hodgson. 

BLEST Sabbath bells, blest Sabbath bells, 
How sadly sweet your music swells, 
Like echoes from a distant sphere, 
Those Sabbath chimes salute the ear ; 
Sweet breathing bells, oh ! not in vain 
Ye waft your soft and soothing strain ; 
To drooping age ye seem to say, 
" Wipe, child of earth, those tears away ! " 
We love the tale your music tells 
Of happier climes, sweet Sabbath bells. 

Sleep, pilgrim, sleep ! Those bells may play, 

Where coldly rests the mould'ring clay ; 

In vain their tuneful notes they pour, 

Those Sabbath chimes are heard no more ! 

Sweet breathing bells, yet not in vain, 

Ye waft your soft and soothing strain ; 

To weeping friends ye seem to say, 

" Wipe, child of earth, those tears away ! " 

We love the tale your music tells 

Of happier climes, sweet Sabbath bells. 



(Eartf) emti ^tatinu 

Mrs C. F. Alexander. 

THE roseate hues of early dawn, 
The brightness of the day, 
The crimson of the sunset sky, 
How fast they fade away ! 



86 Sacred Songs. 



Oh for the pearly gates of heaven ! 

Oh for the golden floor ! 
Oh for the Sun of Righteousness, 

That setteth nevermore ! 

The highest hopes we cherish here, 

How fast they tire and faint ; 
How many a spot defiles the robe 

That wraps an earthly saint ! 
Oh for a heart that never sins ! 

Oh for a soul wash'd white ! 
Oh for a voice to praise our King, 

Nor weary day nor night. 

Here faith is ours, and heavenly hope, 

And grace to lead us higher ; 
But there are perfectness, and peace, 

Beyond our best desire. 
Oh, by Thy love, and anguish, LORD, 

And by Thy life laid down, 
Grant that we fall not from Thy grace, 

Nor cast away our crown. 



J. E. Carpenter. — Music by Henry Farmer. 

The scene on which this song is founded is comprised in the twenty-fifth and 
twenty-sixth chapters of "Uncle Tom's Cabin" — the length of which precludes 
extract, but which will be familiar to every reader of Mrs Stowe's admirable 
work. 

LET them bring them to my chamber, 
Let them bring those flowers to me, 
For the sunny spots they grew in 
I never more may see ; 



" Thy Will be Doner 8? 

They know how well I love them, 

And what have they to give, 
Save those sweet flowers that, like your child, 

Have little time to live ! 

For my sake do not blame them, 

Do not chide them, mother dear ; 
If my life would buy their freedom 

I 'd not wish to linger here. 
But I pray my fleeting senses 

Yet a little time may hold,- 
That I may bring this stricken flock 

Within the Shepherd's fold. 

'Tis vain — my time is coming, 

Bid them stand before me now, 
And, mother, take these shining locks, 

And cut them from my brow ; 
I '11 give a parting tress to each, 

That when my soul shall flee, 
They'll think of little Eva's words, 

And still remember me. 



" %\% Mill tz 2Done." 

Eliza Cook. 

LET the scholar and divine 
Tell us how to pray aright ; 
Let the truths of Gospel shine 

With their precious hallow'd light ; 
But the prayer a mother taught 

Is to me a matchless one ; 
Eloquent and spirit-fraught 
Are the words — " Thy will be done." 



SS Sacred Songs. 



Though not fairly understood, 

Still those words, at evening hour, 
Imply some Being great and good, 

Of mercy, majesty, and power. 
Bending low on infant knee, 

And gazing on the setting sun, 
I thought that orb His home must be, 

To whom I said — " Thy will be done." 

I have search'd the sacred page, 

I have heard the godly speech, 
But the lore of saint or sage 

Nothing holier can teach. 
Pain has wrung my spirit sore, 

But my soul the triumph won, 
When the anguish that I bore 

Only breathed — " Thy will be done." 

They have served in pressing need, 

Have nerved my heart in every task, 
And howsoe'er my breast may bleed, . 

No other balm of prayer I ask. 
When my whiten'd lips declare 

Life's last sands have almost run, 
May the dying breath they bear 

Murmur forth—" Thy will be done." 



John Critchley Prince. 

ONE cannot choose but love the bells, 
With their harmonious din — 
Those speaking bells, whose falls and swells 
Ring merry Christmas in : 



Christmas. 89 



They sound like angel voices sent 

From some serener sphere, 
Singing from out the firmament — 

" The Prince of Peace is here." 

" Good-will fulfil, fulfil good- will," 

Their glad lips seem to say — 
" The best ye can for brother man," 

Goes on the peaceful lay ; 
And shall we scorn such fancy-songs, 

If fancy songs they be — 
Which lift us up from woes and wrongs, 

And bid our hearts be free ? 

No ! rouse to life the laughing blaze, 

Draw round it every one ; 
Away, sad thoughts of former days, 

Cares of to-day, begone ; 
Ah, now ye wear a cheerful look, 

A bright and earnest grace, 
Even the old clock in the nook 

Trims up its burnish'd face. 

Now for an anthem, such as rung 

In halls and homes of old, 
Let every soul to joy be strung, 

Each voice flow free and bold ; 
Lo ! as ye sing, each gentle thing 

Stirs at the tuneful call, 
For the berries that blush 'mid the holly bush 

Are trembling upon the wall. 

Dear Christmas days, how fair ye seem, 

Calm, holy, and sublime ! 
Footprints of angels, how ye gleam 

Along the path of Time ! 



90 Sacred Songs. 



Footprints whereon sweet heart-flowers blow, 

By worldly storms unriven, 
That we may mark them as we go, 

And find our way to Heaven. 



Anna Blackwell. 

A HUNDRED years, and still and low 
Will lie my sleeping head ; 
A hundred years, and grass will grow 

Above my dreamless bed. 
The grass will grow ; the brook will run ; 

Life still as fresh and fair 
Will spring in beauty 'neath the sun ; 
Where will my place be ? where ? 

A hundred years ! some briefer space 

My life perchance had spann'd ; 
But ere they lapse my feet must pass 

Within the silent land. 
While on the plains, the lasting hills, 

In shadow and in shine, 
Still dial Time's slow chronicles ; 

What record will be mine ? 

A hundred years ! O yearning heart ! 

O spirit true and brave ! 
With Doubt and Death thou hast no part, 

No kindred with the grave ! 
For we shall last as lasts the Earth, 

And live as lives the Sun ; 
And we shall know that Death is Birth 

Ere a hundred years have run ! 



The Parting Spirit. 91 

CI), %zu\) 9$z to ^otJC %%w+ 

T. MOORE.— Air, Haydn. 

OH, teach me to love Thee, to feel what Thou art, 
Till, filPd with the one sacred image, my heart 
Shall all other passions disown ; 
Like some pure temple that shines apart, 

Reserved for Thy worship alone. 

In joy and sorrow, through praise and through blame, 
Thus still let me, living or dying the same, 

In Thy service bloom and decay, 
Like some lone altar, whose votive flame 

In holiness wasteth away. 

Though born in this desert, and doom'd by my birth 
To pain and affliction, to darkness and death, 

On Thee let my spirit rely — 
Like some rude dial, that fix'd on earth 

Still looks for its light from the sky. 



<3nje Patting spirit* 

W. E. Staite.— Music by IV. 31. Rooke. 

FAREWELL ! oh, farewell ! 
Though in secret ye weep 
Dark tears o'er the grave 

Where in silence I sleep. 
The night breeze that murmurs 

My soul's parting knell, 
Shall waft me from sorrow — 
Farewell 



Sacred Songs. 



I go to the isles 

Where the golden light gleams 
I go the land 

Ye have pictured in dreams ; 
I soar to the realms 

Where the bright spirits dwell, 
Where hearts know no sorrow — 

Farewell ! oh, farewell ! 



Wqz SDotie'0 2Departure* 

Rev. William Lisle Bowles. 

GO, beautiful and gentle dove, 
And greet the morning ray ; 
For lo ! the sun shines bright above, 

And night and storm are pass'd away : 
No longer drooping, here confined, 

In this cold prison dwell ; 
Go, free to sunshine and to wind, 

Sweet bird, go forth, and fare thee well. 

O beautiful and gentle dove, 

Thy welcome sad will be, 
When thou shalt hear no voice of love 

In murmurs from the leafy tree : 
Yet freedom, freedom shalt thou find, 

From this cold prison's cell : 
Go, then, to sunshine and the wind, 

[O forth, and fare thee welL 



Winter. 93 



(Bttartitati &nplg> 

J. E. Carpenter. 

GUARDIAN angels ! do we doubt them ? 
Night by night, and day by day, 
Could we guide our steps without them, 

Where would wavering fancy stray ? 
Every noble thought that 's spoken, 

Every smile, and every sigh, 
Are they not a sign — a token 
That some guardian angel's by? 

Guardian angels, hovering o'er us, 

Keep the soul, in mercy, pure ; 
Had we not bright hope before us, 

Could we this frail world endure ? 
Then, be sure, that ever near us 

Voices come from forms unseen, 
Breathed by angels sent to cheer us — 

Watching earth and heaven between ! 



(IHmter. 

Robert Burns. 

THE wintry west extends his blast, 
And hail and rain does blaw ; 
Or the stormy north sends driving forth 

The blinding sleet and snaw : 
While tumbling brown, the burn comes down 

And roars frae bank to brae ; 
And bird and beast in covert rest, 
And pass the heartless day. 



94 Sacred Songs. 



" The sweeping blast, the sky o'ercast," 

The joyless winter day 
Let others fear, to me more dear 

Than all the pride of May : 
The tempest's howl, it soothes my soul, 

My griefs it seems to join : 
The leafless trees my fancy please, 

Their fate resembles mine. 

Thou Power Supreme, whose mighty scheme 

These woes of mine fulfil, 
Here, firm, I rest, they must be best, 

Because they are Thy Will ! 
Then all I want, (oh, do Thou grant 

This one request of mine !) 
Since to enjoy Thou must deny, 

Assist me to resign. 



H. W. Longfellow. 
OUD he sang the Psalm of David ! 



L' 



He, a negro and enslaved, 
Sang of Israel's victory, 
Sang of Zion, bright and free. 

In that hour when night is calmest, 
Sang he from the Hebrew Psalmist, 
In a voice so sweet and clear, 
That I could not choose but hear, 

Songs of triumph, and ascriptions, 
Such as reach'd the swart Egyptians, 
When upon the Red Sea coast 
Perish'd Pharaoh and his host. 



Babylon. 95 



P 



And the voice of his devotion 
Fill'd my soul with strange emotion ; 
For its tones by turns were glad, 
Sweetly solemn, wildly sad. 

Paul and Silas, in their prison, 
Sang of Christ the Lord arisen, 
And an earthquake's arm of might 
Broke their dungeon-gates at night. 

But, alas ! what holy angel 
Brings the slave this glad evangel ? 
And what earthquake's arm of might 
Breaks his dungeon-gates at night ? 



Barry Cornwall.— Music by Henry Phillips. 
{Recitative}) 
AUSE in this desert ! Here, men say, of old 



Belshazzar reign' d, and drank from cups of gold; 
Here, to his hideous idols, bow'd the slave, 
And here — God struck him dead ! 

Where lies his grave ? 
'Tis lost ! — His brazen gates ? His soaring towers, 
From whose dark tops men watch'd the starry hours ? 
All to the dust gone down ! The desert bare 
Scarce yields an echo when we question Where? 
The lonely herdsman seeks in vain the spot ; 
And the black wandering Arab knows it not. 
No brick, nor fragment now remains, to tell 
Where Babylon, mighty city, rose — and fell ! 



96 Sacred Songs. 



{Air) 
O City, vast and old ! 

Where, where is thy grandeur fled ? 
The stream that round thee roll'd, 
Still rolls in its ancient bed ! 

But where, oh, where art Thou gone? 
O Babylon ! O Babylon ! 

The giant, when lie dies, 

Still leaveth his bones behind, 
To shrink in the winter skies, 

And whiten beneath the wind ! 
But where, oh, where, &c. 

Thou liv'st ! — for thy name still glows, 

A light in the desert skies ; 
As the fame of the hero grows 

Thrice trebled because he dies ! 
O Babylon! O Babylon! 



Hook l&otmti* 

Anna Maria Sargeant. 
OOK round ! look round ! 



L 



Within the precincts of thy native land ; 
See, there are many drooping ones who stand 
In need of a kind word — a helping hand. 
Look round ! look round ! 

Look back ! look back ! 
For surely it is wise for us to cast 
At times a thoughtful glance upon the past — 
Each bygone action has a moral vast : 
Look back ! look back ! 



The Poor. 97 



Look in ! look in ! 
Thy heart requires a keen and earnest gaze, 
For 'tis deceitful. Search its hidden ways — 
Such scrutiny the labour well repays. 
Look in ! look in ! 

Look on ! look on ! 
Yes, though thy future may be dim or dark, 
A light may kindle from a tiny spark : 
Then trust and fear not — press on toward the mark, 
Look on ! look on ! 

Look up ! look up ! 
A Father's loving eye o'erlooketh all ; 
Nay, more — He all upholds, however small, 
Unknown to Him a sparrow cannot fall. 
Look up ! look up ! 



%\)t poor* 

Mrs Jane T. Worthington. 

HAVE pity on them ! for their life 
Is full of grief and care ; 
You do not know one half the woe 

The very poor must bear ; 
You do not see the silent tears 

By many a mother shed, 
As childhood offers up the prayer, 
" Give us our daily bread." 

Their lot is made of misery 

More hopeless day by day, 
And through the long cold winter nights 

Nor light nor fire have they ; 

G 



Sacred Songs. 



But little children, shivering, crouch 
Around the cheerless hearth, 

Their young hearts weary with the want 
That drags the soul to earth. 

Deal gently with these wretched ones, 

Whatever wrought their woe ; 
The poor have much to tempt and test 

That you can never know ; 
Then judge them not, for hard indeed 

Is their dark lot of care ; 
Let Heaven condemn, but human hearts 

With human faults should bear. 



fe>mce fir^t Ww JfliorD. 

T. Moore. — Ait, Nicholas Freeman. 

SINCE first Thy Word awaked my heart, 
Like new life dawning o'er me, 
Where'er I turn mine eyes Thou art, 

All light and love before me. 
Naught else I feel, or hear, or see, — 

All bonds of earth I sever, 
Thee, O God, and only Thee, 
I live for now and ever. 

Like him whose fetters dropp'd away 

When light shone o'er his prison,* 
My spirit, touch'd by mercy's ray, 

Hath from her chains arisen. 
And shall a soul Thou bidd'st be free 

Return to bondage ? — never ! 
Thee, O God, and only Thee, 

I live for now and ever. 

* Acts xii. 7. 



Types of Heaven. 99 



IBeauttful SDofce. 

Charles Mackay, LL.D.— Music by Henry West. 

THERE was Hope in the ark at the dawn of the day, 
When o'er the wide waters the dove flew away ; 
But when, ere the night, she came wearily back 
With the leaf she had pluck'd on her desolate track, 
The children of Noah knelt down and adored, 
And utter d in anthems their praise to the Lord — ■ 
" O bird of glad tidings ! O joy in our pain ! 
Beautiful dove ! thou art welcome again ! " 

When peace has departed the care-stricken breast, 
And the feet of the weary one languish for rest ; 
When the world is a wide-spreading ocean of grief, 
Plow blest the return of the bird and the leaf! 
Reliance on God is the dove to our ark, 
And peace is the olive she plucks in the dark. 
The deluge abates, there is sun after rain — 
Beautiful dove ! thou art welcome again ! 



I^peg of ^eatien. 

Miss Sarah E. Mayo. 

WHY love I the lily bell 
Swinging in the scented dell ? 
Why love I the woodnotes wild, 
Where the sun hath faintly smiled ? 
Daisies, in their beds secure, 
Gazing out so meek and pure ? 



roo Sacred Songs. 



Why love I the evening dew 
In the violet's bell of blue ? 
Why love I the vesper star, 
Trembling in its shrine afar ? 
Why love I the summer night 
Softly weeping drops of light ? 

Why to me do woodland springs 
Whisper sweet and holy things ? 
Why does every bed of moss 
Tell me of my Saviour's cross ? 
Why in every dimpled wave 
Smiles the light from o'er the grave ? 

Why do rainbows, seen at even, 
Seem the glorious paths to heaven ? 
Why are gushing streamlets fraught 
With the notes from angels caught ? 
Can ye tell me why the wind 
Bringeth seraphs to my mind ? 

Is it not that faith hath bound 
Beauties of all form and sound 
To the dreams that have been given 
Of the holy things in heaven ? 
Are they not bright links that bind 
Sinful souls to sinless mind ? 

From the lowly violet sod, 
Links are lengthen'd unto God. 
All are holy — stainless — sweet — 
That on earth we hear or meet, 
Are but types of that pure love 
Brightly realised above ! 



o 



There 's Peace in Heaven. 101 

C^fltJ at draper* 

JAMES Brutox. — Music by Dr Rimbaidt. 

H ! is it not a holy sight 
To see a fair child kneel, 
Lift up his little hands, and make 

His innocent appeal ? 
To watch his tiny pleading eyes 

Shed tears like blessed rain ? — 
Tears that above, for human love, 
Were never shed in vain ! 

And is it not a holy sound 

To hear a fair child pray ? 
To mark his little rosebud lips 

The lisping blessings say ? 
Oh, may those prayers in heaven be 

Put by, like hoarded gold ; 
And pardon win for after-sin, 

When he is gray and old ! 



'JOjere'g $tace fit Hjeafceiu 

W. E. STAITE.— Music by C. E. Horn. 

SAY, where may Peace be found ; 
I would the secret know. 
Tell me, ye winds of heaven, 

That round my pathway blow ; 
Ye winged clouds, ye clouds of rain, 

And thou eternal sea, 
Tell me, thou solid land, 

If Peace be found in thee. 
But winds, and clouds, and stormy sea, 

And earth, all answer, " Not in me !' ? 



102 Sacred Songs. 



Tell me, ye birds that soar 

To heaven on sparkling wing, 
Ye golden flowers that shed 

New glories on the spring ; 
Tell me, thou glittering arch, 

Thou bow of mighty span, 
If Peace, sweet Peace, on earth 

May e'er be found by man. 
But bird, and flower, and bow can say 

No more than this — " We pass away ! " 

Tell me, ye mystic lights 

That glance along the sky, 
Ye lightnings as ye flash, 

Ye meteors as ye fly, 
Ye stars that blaze and burn 

In ether's purple plains ; 
Thou moon, the secret tell 

Ere yet thy lustre wanes. 
Hark ! hark ! the sweet response is given, 

" There 's Peace, there 's Peace in heaven. 



^atlje %vxl srtjall be mp frapant fejjrfne« 

T. MOORE. — Air, Stevenson. 

THE turf shall be my fragrant shrine, 
My temple, Lord, that arch of Thine, 
My censer's breath the mountain airs, 
And silent thoughts my only prayers. 

My choir shall be the moonlight waves, 
When murmuring homewards to their caves, 
Or where the stillness of the sea, 
Even more than music, breathes of Thee ! 



Moonlight on the Grave. 103 

I '11 seek, by day, some glade unknown, 
All light and silence, like Thy throne ; 
And the pale stars shall be, at night, 
The only eyes that watch my rite. 

Thy heaven, on which 'tis bliss to look, 
Shall be my pure and shining book, 
Where I shall read, in words of flame, 
The glories of Thy wondrous name. 

I '11 read Thy anger in the rack 

That clouds a while the daybeams' track, 

Thy mercy in the azure hue 

Of sunny brightness, breaking through. 

There 's nothing bright, above, below, 
From flowers that bloom to stars that glow, 
But in its light my soul can see 
Some feature of Thy deity. 

There 's nothing dark, below, above, 
But in its gloom I trace Thy love, 
And meekly wait that moment, when 
Thy touch shall turn all bright again. 



flgoftntfjftt ri.n tlje (Braiie. 

Mrs Jane T. Worthington. 

IT shineth on the quiet graves 
Where weary ones have gone, 
It watcheth with angelic gaze 
Where the dead are left alone : 



104 Sacred Songs. 



And not a sound of busy life 
To the still graveyard comes, 

But peacefully the sleepers lie 
Down in their silent homes. 

All silently and solemnly 

It throweth shadows round, 
And every gravestone hath a trace 

In darkness on the ground ; 
It looketh on the tiny mound 

Where a little child is laid, 
And it lighteth up the marble»pile 

Which human pride hath made. 

It falleth with unalter'd ray 

On the simple and the stern, 
And it showeth with a solemn light 

The sorrows we must learn ; 
It telleth of divided ties 

On which its beam hath shone, 
It whispereth of heavy hearts 

Which, brokenly, live on. 

It gleameth where devoted ones 

Are sleeping side by side, 
It looketh where the maiden rests 

Who in her beauty died. 
There is no grave in all the earth 

That moonlight hath not seen ; 
It gazeth on the passionless, 

Where agony hath been. 

Yet it is well : that changeless ray 
A deeper thought should throw, 

When mortal love pours forth the tide 
Of unavailing woe ; 



For Ever. I0 ! 



It teacheth us no shade of grief 
Can touch the starry sky, 

That all our sorrow liveth here — 
The glory is on high ! 



JFor dbzt. 

J. E. Carpenter. — Music by John Blockley. 

FOR ever ! it is written on 
The soft blue skies above, 
'Tis read in all the silent stars 

That shine in peace and love ; 
'Tis whisper'd by the mountain wind, 

'Tis murmur'd by the sea, 
By all earth's brightest, fairest things, 
The stream, the flower, the tree. 
For ever ! 'tis a lovely dream, 
That haunts me like a spell, 
That tells of that bright happy land 
Where angels love to dwell ! 

For ever ! and for ever ! 

For ever ! — 'tis the sweetest sound 

That memory oft recalls ; 
For ever ! — 'tis the saddest tone 

That o'er the spirit falls : 
Sad, when it tells some cherish 1 d one 

From time has pass'd away ; 
Sweet, that it lives for ever, where 

The soul knows no decay. 

For ever ! 'tis a lovely dream, kc. 



1 06 Sacred Songs. 



& prapeu tit feicfcnegg. 

Barry Cornwall. 

SEND down Thy winged angel, God ! 
Amidst this night so wild ; 
And bid him come where now we watch, 
And breathe upon our child ! 

She lies upon her pillow, pale, 

And moans within her sleep, 
Or wakeneth with a patient smile, 

And striveth not to weep ! 

How gentle and how good a child 

She is, we know too well, 
And dearer to her parents' hearts 

Than our weak words can tell. 

We love— we watch throughout the night, 

To aid, when need may be, 
We hope — and have despair' d, at times ; 

But now we turn to Thee ! 

Send down Thy sweet-soul'd angel, God ! 

Amidst the darkness wild, 
And bid him soothe our souls to-night, 

And heal our gentle child ! 



Si draper 

IN THE PROSPECT OF DEATH. 

Robert Burns. — Music by T. Purday. 

OTHOU unknown, Almighty Cause 
Of all my hope and fear, 
In whose dread presence, ere an hour, 
Perhaps I must appear ! 



The Reaper and tJie Flowers. 



If I have wander'd in those paths 

Of life I ought to shun ; 
As something loudly in my breast 

Remonstrates I have done, 

Thou know'st that Thou hast formed me 
With passions wild and strong ; 

And list'ning to their witching voice 
Has often led me wrong. 

Where human weakness has come short, 

Ox frailty stept aside, 
Do Thou, All-Good^ for such Thou art, 

In shades of darkness hide. 

Where with intention I have err'd, 

No other plea I have, 
But — Thou art good ; and goodness still 

Delighteth to forgive. 



%ty Eeaper anti tfjc jflotoettf. 

W. H. Longfellow.— Music by J. W. Hobbs. 

THERE is a reaper whose name is Death, 
And, with his sickle keen, 
He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, 
And the flowers that grow between. 

" Shall I have nought that is fair ? " saith he — 
" Have nought but the bearded grain ? 

Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me 
I will give them all back again." 



io8 Sacred Songs. 



He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes, 
He kiss'd their drooping leaves; 

It was for the Lord of Paradise 
He bound them in his sheaves. 

" My Lord hath need of these flowerets gay," 

The reaper said, and smiled ; 
" Dear tokens of the earth are they, 

Where He was once a child. 

" They shall all bloom in fields of light, 

Transplanted by His care, 
And saints, upon their garments white, 

These sacred blossoms wear." 

And the mother gave, in tears and pain, 

The flowers she most did love ; 
She knew she should find them all again 

In the fields of light above. 

Oh, not in cruelty, not in wrath, 

The reaper came that day ; 
'Twas an angel visited the green earth, 

And took the flowers away. 



grayer* 

J. Hain Friswell. 

I PR AY at morning ere the sun 's awake, 
Or when the morn 's beginning, — 
Under Thy wings, O gracious Lord, me take, 
And keep my soul from sinning. 



Prayer. 109 

I pray at noon, or ere a task's begun, 

With prompt ejaculation, 
Keep me, O Father, Holy Spirit, Son, 

From evil perturbation. 

When on my board is spread a frugal store, 

Thankful I bow my head ; 
Thou feed'st me, Lord, oh, gracious evermore, 

While some for want lie dead. 

What difference, Lord, seest Thou 'twixt them and me ? 

I 'm fed while they 're denied ; 
Not more from sin than they am I, Lord, free : 

Let this abate my pride. 

When soars the lark into the summer sky, 

Pouring full-throated praise, 
I sing like him, and, Lord, like him I try 

Towards Thee my soul to raise. 

When golden fires are twinkling in the sky, 

And birds their' even song 
Begin,' while nature's hush'd, in praise do I 

Seek, too, to add my song. 

Not only on Thy sacred day of rest, 

Within our church's portals, 
Seek I in prayer my full thoughts to invest 

For self and other mortals : 

But every day and hour to Thee I tend, 

Or seek to, Lord, in earnest : 
Raise Thou my thoughts, my inclinations bend ; 

He's stable whom Thou turnest. 



1 1 o Sacred Songs. 



I pray, for some, dear to me, very dear, 

Oh, bless them, Lord, and save ; 
And shouldst Thou take them, be to me, Lord, near, 

Kneeling beside their grave. 

I pray for all who, living, daily tread 

Upon this land of graves ; 
Or who upon the sea are onwards sped, 

Driven by wind and waves. 

Nor men alone : let all Thy creatures share 

Their fellows' benediction : 
Since Thou hast made them, they to me are dear, 

Without one faint restriction. 

And prayer is mighty, comforting and sweet, 

And strengthens day by day ; 
It shields us in each danger that we meet : 

Lord ! teach us how to pray. 



Mrs Julia Ward Howe. 

I AM one who holds a treasure, 
A gem of wondrous cost ; 
But I mar my heart's deep pleasure 
With the fear it may be lost. 

God gives not many mothers 

So fair a child as thou, 
And those He gives to others 

In death are oft laid low. 



A Mother 's Fears. 1 1 1 

I, too, might know that sorrow, 

To stand by thy dying bed, 
And wish each weary morrow 

Only that I were dead. 

Oh ! would that I could bear thee, 

As I bore thee 'neath my heart, 
And every sorrow spare thee, 

And bid each pain depart ! 

Tell rne some act of merit 

By which I may deserve 
To held the angel spirit, 

And its sweet life preserve. 

When I watch the little creature, 

If tears of rapture flow — 
If I worship each fair feature — 

All mothers would do so. 

And if I fain would shield her 

From suffering, on my breast, 
Strive every joy to yield her, 

'Tis thus that I am blest. 

Oh for some heavenly token 

By which I may be sure 
The vase shall not be broken — 

Dispersed the essence pure ! 

Then spake the angel of mothers 

To me, in gentle tone, — 
" Be kind to the children of others, 

And thus deserve thine own." 



1 1 2 Sacred Songs. 



%x\x$t fn d5o&. 

Eliza Cook. 

THEY tell us that the deep sea hath 
More dangers than the shore ; 
They whisper tales of ocean wrath, 

And breakers' deadly roar. 
How oft the ruddy cheek will pale 

To leave the earth behind ! , 
How oft the glowing heart will quail 

Before the tempest wind ! 
We fear the billows' dash, but why ? 

•There 's One to guard and save ; 
There 's One whose wide and watchful eye 

Sleeps not above the wave. 

Why should the soul withdraw its trust 

Upon the foamy track ? 
He who gave life, all wise and just, 

Knows when to ask it back. 
Though death were nigh, I would not shrink 

My faith, my hope, should rest 
Upon a Maker's will, and think 

Whate'er He will'd the best. 
I 'd ever trust the ruling hand, 

Howe'er the storm might rave, 
For He who watches o'er the land 

Sleeps not above the wave. 



The L ighthouse. 113 



C&e feparroto'js ifall. 

W. E. STAITE.— Music by J. P. Knight 

THE turf may be my lowly bed, 
Heaven's arch the roof that decks my head, 
God's stars the only eyes that keep 
Their night watch o'er me while I sleep ; 
Yet He who hears the raven's cry 
Will ne'er forsake me where I lie ; 
He '11 guard me still, He'll hear my call, 
Who marks the poorest sparrow's fall 

What though " the cruse" and " meal" be low, 

His hand will all good things bestow ; 

The bounteous hand which feeds and fills 

The cattle on a thousand hills ; 

And when on death's cold pillow cast, 

I '11 lay me down in peace at last ; 

For well I know He'll hear my call, 

Who marks the poorest sparrow's fall. 



W$z Sfgrljtijouge. 

W. H. Bellamy.— Music by J. L. Hatton. 

A MAN once built a lighthouse, 
And he built it on a rock, 
And he boasted it should bear unscathed 

The storm's severest shock. 
" Of engineers I '11 be," quoth he, 

" The proudest and the first ; 
There stands my work, and it shall stand,- 
The waves may do their worst." 

H 



114 Sacred Songs. 

And stand it did, amid the sea, 

Amid the shifting sand, 
A fairer work to look upon 

Ne'er came from mortal hand. 
Forth went the word ! the winds arose, 

The waves came thundering on, 
At sundown it was standing, 

The day broke — it was gone. 

Another engineer then came, 

A wiser, humbler man, 
One who revered his Maker's word, 

And loved His works to scan ; 
He stood before a forest oak, 

And mark'd its structure well, 
He saw its slowly tapering height, 

Its bold descending swell. 
He gave it thought, he gather' d hope, 

And like a brave man there, 
Felt it no shame to bow his heart 

In thankfulness and prayer. 
To work he went, and this he graved 

Upon the first laid stone, 
" Man may build up, the strength to stand 

Must come from God alone." 



Slow rose the work, but safely slow, 

Firm as the rooted oak ; 
Day after day, storm after storm, 

Above that lighthouse broke ; 
At last came one, and seamen said, 

While yet they saw it loom, 
" If it stand this, why, it will stand 

Until the day of doom." 



Is this all f 1 1 



The storm pass'd on, long years are gone, 

The engineer sleeps well, 
And still around that lighthouse towers, 

The eddying billows swell ; 
And many a tar, from many a land, 

Through many a stormy night, 
Still breathes a prayer for him that rear'd 

That heaven-protected light. 



3|0 tljte all ? 

Rev. Horatius Bonar, D.D. 

SOMETIMES I catch sweet glimpses of His face, 
But that is all. 
Sometimes He looks on me, and seems to smile, 

But that is all. 
Sometimes He speaks a passing word of peace, 

But that is all. 
Sometimes I think I hear His loving voice 
Upon me call. 

And is this all He meant when thus He spoke — 

" Come unto me ?" 
Is there no deeper, more enduring rest, 

In Him for thee ? " 
Is there no steadier light for thee in Him ? 

Oh, come and see ! 

Oh, come and see ! oh, look, and look again ; 

All shall be right ; 
Oh, taste His love, and see that it is good, 

Thou child of night. 
Oh, trust Him, trust Him in His grace and power. 

Then all is bright. 



1 1 6 Sacred Songs. 



Nay, do not wrong Him by thy heavy thoughts, 

But love His love. 
Do thou full justice to His tenderness, 

His mercy prove ; 
Take Him for what He is ; oh, take Him all, 

And look above ! 

Then shall thy tossing soul find anchorage, 

And stedfast peace ; 
Thy love shall rest on His ; thy weary doubts 

For ever cease. 
Thy heart shall find in Him, and in His grace. 

Its rest and bliss. 

Christ and His love shall be thy blessed all 

For evermore ! 
Christ and His light shall shine on all thy ways 

For evermore ! 
Christ and His peace shall keep thy troubled soul 

For evermore ! ■ 



C&e Fteion of ffirfgfianar* 

Lord Byron. — Music by J. Nathan. 

THE king was on his throne, 
The satraps throng'd the hall ; 
A thousand bright lamps shone 

O'er that high festival. 
A thousand cups of gold — 
In Judah deem'd divine, 
Jehovah's vessels — hold 
The godless heathen's wine. 



The Vision of Belshazzar. WJ 



In that same hour and hall, 

The finger of a hand 
Came forth against the wall 

And wrote as if on sand : 
The finger of a man ; . 

A solitary hand 
Along the letters ran, 

And traced them like a wand. 



The monarch saw, and shook, 

And bade no more rejoice ; 
All bloodless wax'd his look, • 

And tremulous his 'voice. 
" Let the men of lore appear, 

The wisest of the earth, 
And expound the words of fear 

Which mar our royal mirth. 1 ' 

Chaldea's seers are good, 

But here they had no skill ; 
And the unknown letters stood 

Untold and awful still. 
And Babel's men of age 

Are wise and deep in lore ; 
But now they were not sage, 

They saw — but knew no more. 

A captive in the land, 

A stranger and a youth, 
He heard the king's command, 

He saw the writing's truth. 
The lamps around were bright, 

The prophecy in view ; 
He read it on that night, — 

The morrow proved it true. 



1 1 8 Sacred Songs. 



" Belshazzar's grave is ma.de, 

His kingdom pass'd away, 
He, in the balance weigh'd, 

Is light and worthless clay. 
The shroud his robe of state, 

His canopy the stone : 
The Mede is at his gate ! 

The Persian on his throne ! 



%mtt of tlje !£eiireto 9£ato* 

Sir Walter Scott. 

WHEN Israel, of the Lord beloved, 
Out of the land of bondage came, 
Her father's God before her moved, 

An awful guide in smoke and flame. 
By day, along the astonish' d lands 

The cloudy pillar glided slow ; 
By night, Arabia's crimson'd sands 
Return'd the fiery column's glow. 

There rose the choral hymn of praise, 

And trump and timbrel answer' d keen ; 
And Zion's daughters pour'd their lays, 

With priest and warrior's voice between. 
No portents now our foes amaze, 

Forsaken Israel wanders lone ; 
Our fathers would not know Thy ways, 

And Thou hast left them to their own. 

Bat present still, though now unseen ! 

When brightly shines the prosp'rous day, 
Be thoughts of Thee a cloudy screen 

To temper the deceitful ray. 



Mountain Prayer. 119 

And oh, when stoops on Judah's paths, 
In shade and storm, the frequent night, 

Be Thou long-suff'ring, slow to wrath, 
A burning and a shining light. 

Our harps we left by Babel's streams, 

The tyrant's jest, the Gentile's scorn ; 
No censer round our altar beams, 

And mute are timbrel, harp, and horn ; 
But Thou hast said, — " The blood of goat, 

The flesh of rams I will not prize ; 
A contrite heart, a humble thought, 

Are mine accepted sacrifice." 



fountain draper* 

J. E. Carpenter. — Music by S. Nelson. 

" He went up into a mountain apart, to pray." 

AMIDST the ancient mountains, where the eagle made 
his nest, 
An aged man went up to pray, to bare his wearied breast ; 
For the spirit of the solitude reign' d solemnly on high, 
And there, unmark'd, his soul could hold communion with 
the sky. 

Apart from all of human kind, where stillness ever dwells, 
The pure and holy fount of prayer sheds forth its holy spells ; 
'Twas there He went, the blessed one, in the vast and silent 

day — 
Oh, shun ye not the mountain path, but seek it — there to 

• pray ! 



120 Sacred Songs. 



And thus, amid the mountains, where the Son of Man hath 

trod, 
The patriarch went up to pray — to commune with his God ; 
He breathed his fervent plaint alone amid the upper air, 
Then sought the lesser world, but left his calm, pure spirit 

there 1 



J. E. Carpenter.— Music by N. J. Sporh, 

ANGELS' visits" may, they tell us, 
Seldom here on earth be seen, 
E'er since sin and doubt befell us, 

" Few" they are " and far between ;" 
Yet we have a shadowy gleaming 

Of their forms so pure and bright, 
Round our pillows softly beaming, 
In the silent hours of night ! 

Angels' visits ! would we see them, 

We must not expect them here ; 
Doubters ! Angels always flee them, 

They are not of this dull sphere : 
But, if faith to us be given 

Not God's wisdom to forego, 
In the starry realms of heaven 

Angels' visits we may know ! 



Almighty God ! 121 



£lmiijtjtP (SoD 

Chorus of Priests. 



\ LMIGHTY God ! when round Thy shrine 
x *- The palm-tree's heavenly branch we twine,* 
(Emblem of Life's eternal ray, 

And Love that " fadeth not away,") 
We bless the flowers, expanded all ; t 

We bless the leaves that never fall, 
And trembling say, — " In Eden thus 

The Tree of Life may flower for us." 

When round Thy cherubs, smiling calm, — 

Without their flames, — we wreathe the palm, 
O God ! we feel the emblem true : 

Thy mercy is eternal too. 
Those cherubs, with their smiling eyes, 

That crown of palm, which never dies, 
Are but the types of Thee above, — 

Eternal Life, and Peace, and Love ! 

* " The Scriptures having declared that the temple of Jerusalem was a type 
of the Messiah, it is natural to conclude that the palms, which were made so 
conspicuous a figure in that structure, represented that life and immortality 
which were brought to light by the gospel."— Observations on the Palm as a 
Sacred Emblem, by IF. Tigke. 

t 1 Kings vi. 29. 



122 Sacred Songs. 



(Bo toljeix tje Scorning; »>ljmetij. 

Anonymous. — Music by Stephen Glover. 

GO when the morning shineth, 
Go when the moon is bright, 
Go when the day declineth, 
Go in the hush of night ; 
Go with pure mind and feeling, 
Fling earthly thoughts away, 
And in thy chamber kneeling, 
Do thou in secret pray. 

Remember all who love thee, 

All who are loved by thee ; 
Pray, too, for those who hate thee, 

If any such there be ; 
Then for thyself, in meekness, 

A blessing humbly claim, 
And link with each petition 

Thy great Redeemer's name. 

Or if 'tis e'er denied thee 

In solitude to pray, 
Should holy thoughts come o'er thee 

When friends are round thy way; 
Even then the silent breathing 

Of thy spirit raised above, 
Will reach His throne of glory 

Who is mercy, truth, and love ! 

Oh ! not a joy or blessing 
With this we can compare, 

The power that He hath given us 
To pour our souls in prayer ! 



Friend after Friend Departs. 123 

Whene'er thou pinest in sadness, 

Before His footstool fall, 
And remember, in thy gladness, 

His grace who gives thee all. 



I 



3 f tfmt miffs aaiorln. 

Lord Byron. — Music by J. Nathan. 

F that high world, which lies beyond 
Our own, surviving love endears ; 
If there the cherish'd heart be fond, 

The eye the same, except in tears — 
How welcome those untrodden spheres ! 

How sweet this very hour to die ! 
To soar from earth, and find all fears 

Lost in thy light — eternity ! 

It must be so ; 'tis not for self 

That we so tremble at the brink, 
And striving to o'erleap the gulf 

Yet cling to Being's severing link. 
Oh ! in that future let us think 

To hold each heart the heart that shares 
With them the immortal waters drink, 

And soul in soul grow deathless theirs ! 



Jfn'enH ator jfnenti &epart& 

James Montgomery. — Music by Stephen Glover. 

FRIEND after friend departs ; 
Who has not lost a friend ? 
There is no union here of hearts, 
That finds not here an end : 



124 Sacred Songs. 



Were this frail world our only rest, 
Living or dying, none were blest. 

Beyond the flight of time, 

Beyond this vale of death, 
There surely is some blessed clime, 

Where life is not a breath, 
Nor life's affections transient fire, 
Whose sparks fly upwards to expire. 

There is a world above, 

Where parting is unknown ; 
A whole eternity of love, 

Form'd for the good alone : 
And faith beholds the dying here 
Translated to that happier sphere. 

Thus star by star declines 

Till all are pass'd away, 
As morning high, and higher shines 

To pure and perfect day ; 
Nor sink those stars in empty night ; 
They hide themselves in heaven's own light. 



Ijere te a Bleak SDetfect, 



THERE is a bleak desert, where daylight grows weary 
Of wasting its smile on a region so dreary — 
What may that desert be ? 
'Tis life, cheerless life, where the few joys that come 
Are lost, like that daylight, for 'tis not their home. 



Resignation. 125 



There is a lone pilgrim before whose faint eyes 
The water he pants for but sparkles and flies — 

Who may that pilgrim be ? 
: Tis man, hapless man, through this life tempted on 
By fair shining hopes, that in shining are gone. 

There is a bright fountain through that desert stealing, 
To pure bliss alone its refreshment revealing — 

What may that fountain be ? 
'Tis truth, holy truth, that, like springs under ground, 
By the gifted of heaven alone can be found.* 

There is a fair spirit, whose wand hath the spell 
To point where those waters in secrecy dwell — 

Who may that spirit be ? 
'Tis faith, humble faith, who hath learn'd that where'er 
Her wand bends to worship, the truth must be there. 



l&cgfjynatiom 

Thomas Chatterton. 



O 



Whose eye this atom globe surveys ; 
To Thee, my only Rock, I fly, 

Thy mercy and Thy justice praise. 

The mystic mazes of Thy will, 
The shadows of celestial light, 

Are past the power of human skill — 
But what th' Eternal acts is right. 

In singing, the following line had better be adopted : — 

" Can but by the gifted of heaven be found." 



126 Sacred Songs. 



Oh ! teach, me in the trying hour, 
When anguish swells the dewy tear, 

To still my sorrows, own Thy power, 
Thy goodness love, Thy justice fear. 

If in this bosom aught but Thee, 

Encroaching, sought a boundless sway, 

Omniscience could the danger see, 
And mercy look the cause away. 

Then why, my soul, dost thou complain ? 

Why drooping seek the dark recess ? 
Shake off the melancholy chain, 

For God created all to bless. 

But ah ! my breast is human still ; 

The rising sigh, the falling tear, 
My languid vitals' feeble rill 

The sickness of my soul declare. 

But yet, with fortitude resign'd, 
I '11 thank th' inflictor of the blow, 

Forbid the sigh, compose my mind, 
Nor let the gush of misery flow. 

The gloomy mantle of the night, 
W T hich on my sinking spirit steals, 

Will vanish at the morning light 

Which God, my East, my Sun, reveals. 



Psalm of Life. 127 



pgalm of JLitz. 

H. W. Longfellow.— Music by S. Glover. 



T 



ELL me not in mournful numbers 
" Life is but an empty dream !" 
For the soul is dead that slumbers, 
And things are not what they seem. 



Life is real ! life is earnest ! 

And the grave is not its goal : 
" Dust thou art; to dust returncst," 

Was not spoken of the soul. 

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, 

Is our destined end or way ; 
But to act, that each to-morrow 

Finds us further than to-day. 

Art is long, and time is fleeting, 

And our hearts, though stout and brave. 
Still like muffled drums are beating 

Funeral marches to the grave. 

In the world's broad field of battle, 

In the bivouac of life, 
Be not like dumb driven cattle — 

Be a hero in the strife ! 

Trust no future, howe'er pleasant ; 

Let the dead past bury its dead ; 
Act, act in the living present, 

Heart within, and God o'erhead .' 



128 Sacred Songs. 



Lives of great men all remind us 
We can make our lives sublime, 

And, departing, leave behind us 
Footprints on the sands of time. 

Footprints that, perhaps, another 
Sailing o'er life's solemn main, 

Some forlorn and shipwreck' d brother. 
Seeing, shall take heart again 

Let us then be up and doing, 

With a heart for any fate ; 
Still achieving, still pursuing, 

Learn to labour and to wait. 



James Hogg. 
{For the close of the week.) 

BEFORE Thy footstool, God of truth, 
A humble child bows down, 
To thank Thee for the joys of earth, 
And errors all to own. 

I know Thou art the fountain-head 
Whence all my blessings flow ; 

But all Thy glory and Thy good 
I dare not seek to know : 

Whether Thy way is on the wind, 

Thy pathway on the storm ; 
Or on the waste of waters wide, 

Which rolling waves deform ; 



A Child's Hymn. 129 

But this I know, by flood or wild, 

Thou seest me night and day, 
And grievest o'er the wayward child 

That goes from Thee astray. 

Through all this week Thy kindly sway 

Has round me been for good, — 
At task or play, by night or day, 

In wilderness or wood. 

And when I lay me down to sleep, 

Thy guardian shield be spread : 
And angels of Thy presence keep 

A watch around my bed. 

Oh, teach me to adore Thy name, 

For all Thy love to me ; 
Thy guardian goodness to proclaim, 

Thy truth and verity. 

And through the darkness of the night 
Watch o'er my thoughts that stray, 

And lift mine eyes upon the light 
Of a new Sabbath-day. 

And in a holy frame employ 

Thy day, new praise to give 
To Him who wept that I might joy, 

And died that I mis:ht live : 



That sinful ones like me 
Might glory in redeeming love, 
To all eternity. 



1 30 Sacred Songs. 



For all Thy blessings shower'd around 

My kindred and my race, 
I bless Thee, Lord, but most of all, 

For riches of Thy grace. 

For peace of mind, for health of frame, 

And joys— a mighty store, 
Accept my thanks, and to Thy name 

Be glory evermore. 



"C&p Smg:tiom Come*" 

Eliza Cook. 

,r_ piS human lot to meet and bear 

-*- The common ills of human life ; 
There 's not a breast but hath its share 

Of bitter pain and vexing strife. 
The peasant in his lowly shed, 

The noble 'neath a gilded dome, 
Each will at some time bow his head, 

And ask and hope, " Thy kingdom come ! " 

When some deep sorrow, surely slow, 

Despoils the cheek and eats the heart, 
Laying our busy projects low, 

And bidding all earth's dreams depart — 
Do we not smile, and calmly turn 

From the wide world's tumultuous hum, 
And feel the immortal essence yearn, 

Rich with the thought, " Thy kingdom come ? 



By the Rivers of Babylon. 1 3 1 

The waves of Care may darkly bound 

And buffet, till, our strength outworn, 
We stagger as they gather round, 

All shatter' d, weak, and tempest-torn : 
But there's a lighthouse for the soul, 

That beacons to a stormless home ; 
It safely guides through roughest tides — 

It shines, it saves ! " Thy kingdom come ! w 

To gaze upon the loved in death, 

To mark the closing beamless eye, 
To press dear lips, and find no breath — 

This, this is life's worst agony ! 
But God, too merciful, too wise 

To leave the lorn one in despair, 
Whispers, while snatching those we prize, 

" My kingdom come ! — Ye '11 meet them there ! " 



%l tlje IRfterg of ffiabglon* 

LORD Byron. — Music by J. Nathan. 

WE sate down and wept by the waters 
Of Babel, and thought of the day 
When our foe, in the love of his slaughters, 

Made Salem's high places his prey ; 
And ye, oh, her desolate daughters ! 
Were scatter d, all weeping, away. 

While sadly we gazed on the river 
Which rolFd on in freedom below, 

They demanded the song ; but, oh, never 
That triumph the stranger shall know ! 

May this right hand be wither'd for ever 
Ere it string our high harp for the foe. 



132 Sacred Songs. 



On the willow that harp is suspended, 
O Salem ! its sound should be free ; 

And the hour when thy glories were ended 
But left me that token of thee : 

And ne'er shall its soft tones be blended 
With the voice of the spoiler by me ! 



Thomas Hood. — Music by John Blocklcy. 

WE watch'd her breathing through the night, 
Her breathing soft and low, 
As in her breast the wave of life 

Kept heaving to and fro. 
So silently we seem'd to speak, 

So slowly moved about, 
As we had lent her half our powers 
To eke her living out. 

Our very hopes belied our fears, 

Our fears our hopes belied ; 
We thought her dying when she slept, 

And sleeping when she died. 
For when the morn came dim and sad, 

And chill with early showers, 
Her quiet eyelids closed, — she had 

Another morn than ours. 



Touta Nika. 133 



Couta jpifou 

Mrs G. Linnaeus Banks. 

WE read on the historic page, 
The monarch Constantine, 
Whilst marching 'gainst a Pagan foe, 

Invoked the Power Divine, 
In choice of a religious creed 

To lead his steps aright, 
To grant him knowledge of the truth, 

And aid him in the fight. 
When in the dusky evening sky 
Appear'd the Christian's sign : 
The Cross, in unimagined light, 
And bore these words divine, — 

" In this overcome." 

The startled monarch stood amazed, 

Own'd the God-given guide, 
Uprear'd the standard of the Cross, 

And fought, faith-fortified. 
For, trusting not in human strength, 

He sought help from on high, 
And, ever in the cause of truth, 

March' d but to victory. 
Still far and wide his conquests spread 

In temple, council, field; 
And wheresoe'er the Cross was rear'd, 

And God in Christ reveal' d, 

" In this overcome." 

And so the Christian, whensoe'er 

Assail'd by doubts or fears, 
Should turn the inner eye above, 

And, lo ! the Cross appears ! 



134 Sacred Songs. 



A promise to the fainting heart, 

A guide in doubt's thick shade, 
A refuge to the penitent, 

In cheering light array'd. 
Or if his soul is e'er assail'd 

By foes without, within, 
Raise but the standard of the Cross, 

And quell the hosts of sin, — 

" In this overcome." 



dje ADrpIjam 

Mrs Maclean — Letitia Elizabeth Landon. 



ALONE, alone ! — No other face 
Wqars kindred smile, or kindred line ; 
And yet they say my mother's eyes — 

They say my father's brow — is mine ; 
And either had rejoiced to see 

The other's likeness in my face ; 
But now it is a stranger's eye 

That finds some long-forgotten trace. 

I heard them name my father's death, 

His home and tomb alike the wave ; 
And I was early taught to weep 

Beside my youthful mother's grave. 
I wish I could recall one look, — 

But only one familiar tone ; 
If I had aught of memory, 

I should not feel so all alone. 



Cradle Song. 135 



My heart is gone beyond the grave 

In search of love I cannot find, 
Till I could fancy soothing words 

Are whisper'd by the evening wind. 
I gaze upon the watching stars, 

So clear, so beautiful above, 
Till I could dream they look at me 

With something of an answering love. 

My mother ! does thy gentle eye 

Look from those distant stars on me ? 
Or does the wind at evening bear 

A message to thy child from thee ? 
Dost thou pine for me as I pine 

Again a parent' s love to share ? 
I often kneel beside thy grave, 

And pray to be a sleeper there. 

The vesper-bell ! — 'Tis eventide, 

I will not weep, but I will pray : 
God of the fatherless, 'tis Thou 

Alone canst be the orphan's stay ! 
Earth's meanest flower, heaven's mightiest star, 

Are equal to their Maker's love; 
And I can say, " Thy will be done," 

With eyes that fix their hopes above. 



Cratile ^on^ 

William C. Bennett. 

LULLABY, lullaby, baby dear ! 
Take thy rest without a fear 
Quiet sleep, for mother is here, 
Ever wakeful, ever near. 

Lullaby ! 



136 Sacred Songs. 



Lullaby, lullaby ! gone is the light, 
Yet let not darkness my baby fright ; 
Mother is with her amid the night, 
Then softly sleep, my heart's delight. 
Lullaby ! 

May thy small dreams no ill things see. 
Kind Heaven keep watch, my baby, o'er thee, 
Kind angels bright thy guardians be, 
And give thee smiling to-day and me. 
Lullaby ! 

Sleep on, sleep on ! thy rest is deep ; 
But, ah ! what wild thoughts on rne creep,— 
As by thy side my watch I keep, — 
To think how like to death is sleep 
Lullaby ! 

But God, our Father, will hear my prayer, 
And have thee, dear one, in His care ; 
Thee, little one, soft breathing there, 
To me the Lord's dear love will spare, 
Lullaby ! 

Sleep on ! sleep on ! till glad day break, 
And with the sunshine gladly wake, 
Thy mother's day, how blest to make ! 
Her life, what joy ! through thy dear sake, 
Lullaby ! 



The Child's Evening Hymn, 137 

%\z Cljiitrs flRjemng; l£pmtn 

Samuel Taylor Coleridge.— Air, Evening Hymn. 

ERE on my bed my limbs I lay, 
God grant me grace my prayers to say ! 
O God, preserve my mother dear 
In health and strength for many a year. 

And, oh ; preserve my father too, 
And may I pay him reverence due ; 
And may I my best thoughts employ 
To be my parents' hope and joy. 

My sisters and my brothers both 
From evil guard, and save from sloth, 
And may we always love each other, 

Our friends, our father, and our mother. 



[For that dear brother gone from earth, 
Who soothed my woe, who shared my mirth 
Oh, teach me, Father, Thee to love, 
That we may meet in realms above.] * 



And still, O Lord, to me impart 
A contrite, pure, and grateful heart, 
That after my last sleep I may 
Awake to Thy eternal day. Amen. 

* The fourth verse is introduced by the Editor. 



138 Sacred Songs. 



"Be not afratti ; 'ZCte %" 

Matt. xiv. 

G. LiNN^US Banks. — Music by Edwin Flood. 

BE not afraid ; 'tis I " 
Who walk the mighty deep ; 
Who bid the storm pass by, 

Or rock the waves to sleep : 
Though mountain billows swell, 

And thunders shake the sky, 
A breath of mine can quell — 
" Be not afraid ; 'tis I." 

" Be not afraid ; 'tis I:" 

But have ye ought to fear ? 
Can danger e'er be nigh, 

And God, too, not be near ? 
"Oh, ye of little faith," 

Who raise the feeble cry 
To Him who ever saith — 

" Be not afraid : 'tis I." 



%\z C&ttettan <$vatz$. 

No. 1.— FAITH. 
Rev. J. R. Wreford.— Music by Stephen Glover. 

LORD, I believe : Thy power I own, 
Thy word I would obey ; 
I wander comfortless and lone, 
When from Thy truth I stray. 



The Christian Graces. 139 

Lord, I believe : but gloomy fears 

Sometimes bedim my sight ; 
I look to Thee with prayers and tears, 

And cry for strength and light. 

Lord, I believe : but Thou dost know 

My faith is cold and weak ; 
Pity my frailty, and bestow 

The confidence I seek. 
Yes ! I believe ; and only Thou 

Canst give my soul relief ; 
Lord ! to Thy truth my spirit bow ; 

Help Thou my unbelief. 



No. 2.— HOPE. 
Charles Jefferys. — Music by Stephen Glover. 

MOURNER, why this fruitless sorrow? 
Let me soothe thee with my lay, 
Darkest night hath brightest morrow, 

So shall sadness pass away. 
Heavy is thy heart with anguish, 

Sorely are thy thoughts oppress'd, 
Mourner, wherefore dost thou languish ? 
I am here to give thee rest. 

My blest mission is from heaven, 

Thither let thy thoughts ascend ; 
Free thy heart from earthly leaven ; 

Thou shalt know me as thy friend : 
Be thy prayers and adorations 

Made unto that bright abode, 
I will lead thy aspirations 

To the temple of thy God ! 



140 Sacred Songs. 



No. 3.— CHARITY. 
Charles Jefferys. — Music by Stephen Glover. 

MEEK and lowly, pure and holy, 
Chief among the " blessed three," 
Turning sadness into gladness, 

Heaven-born art thou, Charity ! 
Pity dwelleth in thy bosom ; 

Kindness reigneth o'er thy heart, 
Gentle thoughts alone can sway thee, 
Judgment hath in thee no part. 

Hoping ever, failing never, 

Though deceived, believing still ; 
Long abiding, all confiding, 

In thy heavenly Father's will. 
Never weary of well-doing, 

Never fearful of the end : 
Claiming ail mankind as brothers, 

Thou dost all alike befriend. 



%^t Sleeper* 

J. E. Carpenter. — Music by F. Wallerstein. 

I HAD a vision in the night ; — 
An infant tired with play, 
While o'er it bent two angels bright, 

As there it sleeping lay : 
I knew that they were Death and Sleep, 

But which I could not name, 
Nor why that both should vigil keep, 
Why pictured both the same. 



Song after L abour. 1 4 1 

Since then I 've seen life's last light fade, 

And pass its latest breath ; 
Then knew I why my vision made 

Sleep so akin to Death. 

Between the white-wing'd angels stood 

A form, — " 'twas Time," I said ; 
My vision, in a happy mood, 

Thus hope and comfort shed : 
For sleep knows two awakings, — one 

Where sweet bells gaily chime, 
And one, life's pilgrimage begun, 
That's only known to Time. 
And well it is for our repose, 

When bound in slumber deep, 
That Time alone the future knows, 
The hour for Death or Sleep. 



^>ong; after labour* 

Barry Cornwall. 

LABOUR'S strong and merry children, 
Comrades of the rising sun, 
Let us sing some songs together, 
Now our toil is done. 

No desponding, no repining ! 

Leisure must by toil be bought. 
Never yet was good accomplished, 

Without hand and thought. 

Even God's all holy labour 

Framed the air, the stars, the sun ; 

Built our earth on deep foundations ; 
And — the World was won ! 



142 Sacred Songs. 



31 0oug:6t tfje Hortu 

J. E. Carpenter. — Music by N. J. Sporle. 

I SOUGHT the Lord — He heard my voice, 
The hour of sorrow pass'd away ; 
He bade my trembling soul rejoice, 

And smooth'd the paths where now I stray : 
I look back to the past where never 

My footsteps shall return again, 
For, in His path I '11 walk for ever, 
And steadfast in my faith remain ! 

I sought the Lord — and me He heard, 

He let my prayers to heaven ascend ; 
And, trusting in His holy word, 

I knew no other hope or friend ; 
And now with meek and chasten'd spirit 

I pray my sins may be forgiven, 
That I, hereafter, may inherit 

A rest above — a home in heaven. 



!£i'0 MWl ht SDone! 

James Bruton.— Music by Dr Rhnbault 
MOTHER ! it is hard to die 



o 



When all is glad around ; 
When smiling stars light up the sky, 

And flowers begem the ground ! 
When bee and bird abroad are heard, 

And summer just begun : 
But, mother ! I will not complain — 

For let His will be done ! 



O Thou who Dryst the Mourner s Tear. 143 

mother ! it is hard to die, 
When e'en but yesternight, 

My cheek was red, and in my eyes 
Hope lit its cheating light ! 

1 hear the noise of playmate boys 

In search of pleasure run : 
But, mother ! I will not complain — 
For let His will be done ! 



And leave you here to weep, 
With none to dry your tears when I 

Shall sleep the long deep sleep ! 
My pillow raise, and let me gaze 

On yonder setting sun, 
Which I may never see again — ■ 

But let His will be done ! 



d> UJou Voljo 2Drg'0t tfje flpournec'sf ^ear, 

Psalm cxlvii. 3. 

T. Moore.— A ir^ Haydn. 



o 



Thou who dry' st the mourner's tear, 
How dark this world would be, 



We could not fly to thee. 
The friends who in our sunshine live, 

When winter comes, are flown ; 
And he who has but tears to give, 

Must weep those tears alone. 



144 Sacred Songs. 



But Thou wilt heal that broken heart, 
Which, like the plants that throw 

Their fragrance from the wounded part, 
Breathes sweetness out of woe. 

When joy no longer soothes or cheers, 

And even the hope that threw 
A moment's sparkle o'er our tears 

Is dimm'd and vanish'd too, 
Oh, who would bear life's stormy doom, 

Did not Thy Wing of Love. 
Come, brightly wafting through the gloom 

Our peace-branch from above ! 
Then sorrow, touch'd by Thee, grows bright 

With more than rapture's ray ; 
As darkness shows us worlds of light 

We never saw by day ! 



%^z ©eatftutie0. 

No. i.— SORROW. 

Blessed are they that mourn : for they shall be comforted."— Matt. v. 4 

CHARLES JEFFERYS— Music by Stephen Glover. 

IN this world abideth sorrow ; 
Rich and poor, and high and low, 
Wearied age and early childhood 

Must the pangs of sorrow know : 
But when earthly griefs are keenest, 

Hark what cheering words are said : 
They that mourn are blessed ; — blessed, 
For they shall be comforted. 



The Beatitudes. 145 



If we seek our only solace 

In the one pure source above, 
Happy is the heart that's chasten'd 

By the Father's hand of love. 
He who is the Lord of Glory, 

Had not where to lay His head — 
Thus He sorrow' d, thus He suffer' d, 

That we might be comforted. 



No. 2.— MEEKNESS. 

Blessed are the meek : for they shall inherit the earth." — Matt. 

Charles Jefferys. — Music by Stephen Gtover. 

BE meek, be patient : oh, how blest is he 
Whose heart is ever ready to forgive ; 
Who knows, 'mid unresented injury, 
That unresisted anger cannot live. 
A little spark may rouse a raging fire, 

The more opposed, the more will anger burn ; 
But feed it not, the spark will soon expire ; 
So Strife, provoked not, will to Peace return. 

Of Adam born, there never lived but One 

Who needed not forgiveness, and yet He 
Was scorn'd, despised, rejected, left alone 

To bear the burden of His misery. 
By man betray'd, how tender was the prayer, 

In dying whispers, breathed by lips divine : 
May we such Patience learn ; like Him forbear, 

Confide in promised joys, and ne'er repine. 



146 Sacred Songs. 



No. 3.— MERCY. 

'•'Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy." — Matt. v. 7. 

Charles Jefferys. — Music by Stephen Glover. 

BE merciful, for they are blessed 
Who the gifts of Mercy show ; 
In their need, they shall find that mercy 

Which on others they bestow. 
To help the friendless, save the erring,' 

Raise the fallen, cheer the lone, 
To win the wayward back to duty, 
This, sweet Mercy, is thine own. 

Be ever merciful in judging ; 

Be not cold to Want's appeal — 
'Tis better we should err in kindness, 

Than let Pity's fount congeal. 
If here on earth thou wouldst be happy, 

Know that man is nearest heaven 
When he freely grants forgiveness, 

As he hopes to be forgiven. 



No. 4.— PEACE. 

" Elessed are the peacemakers : for they shall be called the children of 
God." — Matt. v. 9. 

Charles Jefferys. — Music by Stephen Glover. 

" HPO God be glory in the highest, 

■*■ Peace on earth, good-will to man" — 
Thus sang on high the Herald Angels 
When Redemption's work began : — 



The Bow in the Cloud. 147 

Go forth, proclaim it to the nations, 
Hence let strife and warfare cease ; 

For best of all the Earth's oblations 
Are the offerings of Peace. 

Peacemakers, ye on earth are blessed, 

Children of the Holy One : — 
That ye the kingdom shall inherit, 

Was the promise of the Son. 
Then go, proclaim it to the nations, 

Hence let strife and warfare cease ; 
For purest of all Earth's oblations, 

Are the offerings of Peace. 



lie Boto fn tije cloun; 

I do set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be for a token of a covenant 
between me and the earth." — Gen. ix. 13. 

j. E. Carpenter. — Music by Stephen Glover. 
EVER complain, though thy sorrows be many ; 



N 



What are thy sufferings, mortal, to any 
He who died for us consented to share ? 

He whom He loveth He chasteneth, and sorrow 
May, for the moment, thy pathway o'ershroud ! 

Trembler ! look up — there is hope for thy morrow, 
For has not the Lord set His bow in the cloud? 

Sign of His goodness and type of His glory, 
Token and promise of peace upon earth, — 

Covenant, giving the young and the hoary, 
Hope of, hereafter, a holier birth ; 



148 Sacred Songs. 



Blessed on earth be His name who from heaven 
Has, in the fulness of goodness, allow' d 

Hope for the past — for the future has given 
The token of promise — the bow in the cloud! 



%%ou art, flD CSoD ! 

Psalm lxxiv. 16, 17. 

T. Moore. — Air, unknown. 

THOU art, O God, the life and light 
Of all this, wondrous world we see, 
Its glow by day, its smile by night, 

Are but reflections caught from Thee. 
Where'er we turn, Thy glories shine, 
And all things fair and bright are Thine ! 

When day, with farewell beams, delays 
Among the opening clouds of even, 

And we can almost think we gaze 
Through golden vistas into heaven — 

Those hues, that make the sun's decline 

So soft, so radiant, Lord ! are Thine. 

When night, with wings of starry gloom, 
O'ershadows all the earth and skies, 

Like some dark beauteous bird, whose plume 
Is sparkling with unnumber'd eyes — 

That sacred gloom, those fires divine, 

So grand, so countless, Lord ! are Thine. 



Lady Mary. 149 



When youthful Spring around us breathes, 
Thy spirit warms her fragrant sigh ; 

And every flower the Summer wreathes 
Is born beneath that kindling eye. 

Where'er we turn, Thy glories shine, 

And all things fair and bright are Thine. 



Rev. H. Alford, D.D., Dean of Canterbury. 

THOU wert fair, Lady Mary, 
As the lily in the sun ; 
And fairer yet thou mightest be, 

Thy youth was but begun : 
Thine eye was soft and glancing, 

Of the deep bright blue ; 
And on the heart thy gentle words 
Fell lighter than the dew. 

They found thee, Lady Mary, 

With thy palms upon thy breast, 
Even as thou hadst been praying 

At thy hour of rest : 
The cold pale moon was shining 

On thy cold pale cheek ; 
And the morn of the Nativity 

Had just begun to break. 

They carved thee, Lady Mary, 

All of pure white stone, 
With thy palms upon thy breast, 

In the chancel all alone : 



150 Sacred Songs. 



And I saw thee when the winter moon 
Shone on thy marble cheek, 

When the morn of the Nativity 
Had just begun to break. 

But thou kneelest, Lady Mary, 

With thy palms upon thy breast, 
Among the perfect spirits 

In the land of rest : 
Thou art even as they took thee 

At thine hour of prayer, 
Save the glory that is on thee 

From the Sun that shineth there. 

We shall see thee, Lady Mary, 

On that shore unknown, 
A pure and happy angel 

In the presence of the Throne ; 
We shall see thee when the light divine 

Plays freshly on thy cheek, 
And the Resurrection morning 

Hath just begun to break. 



flDJ ! ftftieep for %\m. 

Lord Byron. — Music by Stephen Glover. 

OH ! weep for those that wept by Babul's stream, 
Whose shrines are desolate, whose land 's a dream 
Weep for the harp of Judah's broken shell ; 
Mourn — where their God hath dwelt, the godless dwell. 

And where shall Israel lave her bleeding feet ? 
And when shall Zion's songs again seem sweet ? 



The Rainbow. 1 5 1 



And Judah's melody once more rejoice 

The hearts that leap'd before its heavenly voice ? 

Tribes of the wandering foot and weary breast, 
How shall ye flee away and be at rest ! 
The wild dove hath her nest, the fox his cave, 
Mankind their country — Israel but the grave ! 



%\)t Bafnboto* 

Thomas Campbell. 

TRIUMPHAL arch, that fill'st the sky 
When storms prepare to part, 
I ask not proud philosophy 
To teach me what thou art. 

Still seem as to my childhood's sight, , 

A midway station given, 
For happy spirits to alight 

Betwixt the earth and heaven. 

Can all that optics teach, unfold 

Thy form to please me so 
As when I dreamt of gems and gold 

Hid in thy radiant bow ? 

When Science from Creation's face 
Enchantment's veil withdraws, 

W T hat lovely visions yield their place 
To cold material laws ! 

And yet, fair bow, no fabling dreams, 

But words of the Most High, 
Have told why first thy robe of beams 

Was woven in the sky. 



Sacred Songs. 



When o'er the green undeluged earth 
Heaven's covenant thou didst shine, 

How came the world's gray fathers forth 
To watch thy sacred sign ! 

And when its yellow lustre smiled 

On mountains yet untrod, 
Each mother held aloft her child, 

To bless the bow of God. 

Methinks thy jubilee to keep 
The first-made anthem rang 

On earth deliver' d from the deep, 
And the first poet sang. 

Nor ever shall the Muse's eye 
Unraptured greet thy beam ; 

Theme of primeval prophecy, 
Be still the poet's theme. 

The earth to thee its incense yields, 
The lark thy welcome sings, 

When glittering in the freshen'd fields 
The snowy mushroom springs. 

How glorious is thy girdle cast 
O'er mountain, tower, and town, 

Or mirror'd in the ocean vast, 
A thousand fathoms down. 

As fresh in yon horizon dark, 
As young thy beauties seem, 

As when the eagle from the ark 
First sported in thy beam. 



The L ight of Stars. 1 5 3 



For faithful to its sacred page, 
Heaven still rebuilds thy span, 

Nor lets the type grow pale with age 
That first spoke peace to man. 



%\z Hffffjt of &tar& 

W. H. Longfellow. 

THE night is come, but not too soon 
And sinking silently, 
All silently, the little moon 
Drops down behind the sky. 

There is no light in earth or heaven, 

But the cold light of stars ; 
And the first watch of night is given 

To the red planet Mars : 

Is it the tender star cf love ? 

The star of love and dreams ? 
Oh no ! from that blue tent above, 

A hero's armour gleams. 

And earnest thoughts within me rise, 

When I behold afar, 
Suspended in the evening skies, 

The shield of that red star. 

O star of strength ! I see thee stand 

And smile upon my pain ; 
Thou beckonest with thy mailed hand, 

And I am strong; again. 



154 Sacred Songs. 



Within my breast there is no light, 
But the cold light of stars ; 

I give the first watch of the night 
To the red planet Mars. 

The star of the unconquer'd will, 

He rises in my breast, 
Serene, and resolute, and still, 

And calm, and self-possess' d. 

And thou, too, whosoe'er thou art, 
That readest this brief psalm, 

As one by one thy hopes depart, 
Be resolute and calm. 

Oh, fear not, in a world like this. 
And thou shalt know, ere long, 

Know how sublime a thing it is 
To suffer, and be strong. 



3£at>e faitl) in ^utl 

J. E. Carpenter. — Music by J. W. Cherry. 

HAVE faith in Him who rules the deep 
And stills the angry wave, 
At whose dread word the surges sweep 

O'er many an ocean grave ; 
Whose hand is in the storm and calm 

To succour or destroy : 
He is thy shield 'gainst every harm, — 

To Him sing songs of joy ! 
Have faith in Him ; 'tis not for man 

To judge His wond'rous ways, 
He can thy every action scan, — 

To Him sing songs of praise ! 



Ho ! Every One that TJiirsteth. 1 5 5 

Have faith in Him who rules the world, 

Whose eye can compass all ; 
The rocks from their foundation hurl'd, 

And marks the sparrow's fall : 
Whose voice is in the evening breeze, 
' And in the tempest's roar ; 
Who rules the heaven, the earth, the sea, 

And can the dead restore. 
Have faith in Him ; be not afraid 

To walk within His ways ; 
Think in His image ye are made, — 

To Him sing songs of praise ! 



l£o! (Ctjcrj flDne tijat %\\z$m\. 

DUET. 

J. E. Carpenter. — Music by Stephen Glover. 
O ! every one that thirsteth, 
Drink at the living well, 
Within whose source the streams of life 

And joy eternal dwell ; 
Come ye, the poor, no worldly gift 

The sacred draught can buy ; 
Pure, deep, and sweet, and without price, 
The sacred waters lie. 



H 



Come ye in faith, incline your ear, 

And so your soul shall live, 
Strengthen'd for ever by the draught 

The well of truth can give : 
And God, yea, even God, whose words 

Alone are just and true, 
Will hear and make an everlasting 

Covenant with you. 



i$6 Sacred Songs. 



Come ye in faith, and ye shall then 

Go out with joy — be led forth free 
As the high mountains and the hills, 

That seem to sing in glee ! 
And that shall be a sign to thee 

That He hath heard thy voice ; 
And ye who walk within His ways 

May evermore rejoice ! 



lepljttja'g 2Dauo;!)ter> 

Lord Byron. — Music by Stephen Glover. 

SINCE our country, our God, O my sire ! 
Demand that thy daughter expire ; 
Since thy triumph was bought by thy vow — 
Strike the bosom that's bared for thee now. 

And the voice of my mourning is o'er, 
And the mountains behold me no more : 
If the hand that I love lay me low, 
There cannot be pain in the blow. 

And of this, O my father ! be sure — 

That the blood of thy child is as pure 

As the blessing I beg ere it flow, 

And the last thought that soothes me below. 

Though the virgins of Salem lament, 
Be the judge and the hero unbent ! 
I have won the great battle for thee, 
And my father and country are free. 



The Pilgrim. 1 5 7 



When this blood of thy giving hath gush'd, 
When the voice that thou lovest is hush'd, 
Let my memory still be thy pride, 
And forget not I smiled as I died ! 



C&e pilgrim. 

Mrs Maclean, " L. E. L." 

VAIN folly of another age, 
His wandering over earth, 
To find the peace by some dark sin 
Banish'd our household hearth. 

On Lebanon the dark green pines 
Wave over sacred ground ; 

And Carmel's consecrated rose 
Springs from a hallow'd mound. 

Glorious the truth they testify, 
And blessed is their name ; 

But even in such a sacred spot 
Are sin and woe the same. 

O pilgrim ! vain each toilsome step, 

Vain every weary day ; 
There is no charm in toil or shrine 

To wash thy guilt away. 

Return, with prayer and tear, return 
To those who weep at home ; 

To dry their tears will more avail 
Than o'er a world to roam. 



1 5 8 Sacred Songs. 



There's hope for one who leaves with shame 

The guilt that lured before ; 
Remember, He who said, " Repent," 

Said also, " Sin no more." 

Return, and in thy daily round 

Of duty and of love, 
Thou best will find that patient faith 

Which lifts the soul above. 

In every innocent prayer each child 

Lisps at his father's knee, 
If thine has been to teach that prayer, 

There will be hope for thee. 

There is a small white church which stands 

Beside thy father's grave, 
There kneel and pour those earnest prayers 

That sanctify and save. 



And, with a chasten' d mind, 
In meek well-doing seek that peace 
No wandering will find. 

In charity and penitence 

Thy sin will be forgiven ; 
Pilgrim, the heart is the true shrine 

Whence prayers ascend, to heaven. 



Azvake, Arise, thy Light is Come. 159 

gtoafce, &ri0e, tj)p Htgijt 10 Come* 

Isaiah lx 

T. Moore — Air, Stevenson. 

AWAKE, arise, thy light is come ; 
The nations that before outshone thee, 
. Now at thy feet lie dark and dumb — 
The glory of the Lord is on thee ! 

Arise — the Gentiles to thy ray, 

From every nook of earth shall cluster ; 

And kings and princes haste to pay 
Their homage to thy rising lustre. 

Lift up thine eyes around, and see, 
O'er foreign fields, o'er farthest waters, 

Thy exiled sons return to thee, 

To thee return thy home-sick daughters. 

And camels rich, from Midian's tents, 

Shall lay their treasures down before thee ; 

And Saba bring her gold and scents, 
To fill thy air, and sparkle o'er thee. 

See, who are these that, like a cloud, 

Are gathering from all earth's dominions, 

Like doves, long absent, when allow'd 

Homeward to shoot their trembling pinions ? 

Surely the isles shall wait for me, 

The ships of Tarshish round will hover, 

To bring thy sons across the sea, 
And waft their gold and silver over. 



160 Sacred Songs. 



And Lebanon thy pomp shall grace — 
The fir, the pine, the palm victorious, 

Shall beautify our holy place, 
And make the ground I tread on glorious. 

No more shall Discord haunt thy ways, 
Nor ruin waste thy cheerless nation ; 

But thou shalt call thy portals Praise, 
And thou shalt name thy walls Salvation. 

The sun no more shall make thee bright, 
No more shall lend her lustre to thee ; 

But God himself shall be thy light, 
And flash eternal glory through thee. 

Thy sun shall never more go down ; 

A ray from heaven itself descended 
Shall light thy everlasting crown — 

Thy days of mourning all are ended. 

My own elect and righteous land ! 

The Branch, for ever green and vernal, 
Which I have planted with this hand, 

Live thou shalt in life eternal. 



%ty Hand of promts 

W. E. Staite.-— Music by Dr E. F. Rimbault. 

WEARY wand'rer through the Desert, 
Trav'ller through this vale of tears, 
Bent with age, and worn with sorrow, 
Cheer thy heart and calm thy fears. 



Going Out and Coming In. 161 

O'er yon sunny hills of gladness, 

Pilgrim, turn your weeping eyes ; 
Lo, behold the land of promise, 
See the glorious prospect rise. 
Weary wanderer through the desert, 

Traveller through this vale of tears, 

Bent with age, and worn with sorrow, 

Cheer thy heart and calm thy fears. 

Rest thee, now thy toils are ended ; 

Weep no more, the desert's past ; ' 
Ne'er again shall pain or sadness 

O'er thy heart a shadow cast. 
See yon bright and shining river, 

Pilgrim, drink, the stream's divine ; 
Thither lies the land of promise, 
Enter, pilgrim, all is thine. 

Weary wanderer through the desert, 

Travellers through this vale of tears, 
Bent with age, and worn with sorrow, 
Cheer thy heart, and calm thy fears. 



(Botttg; flDut anti Coming; 3m 

Isa Craig. — Music by J. W. Hobbs. 

IN that home was joy and sorrow 
Where an infant first drew breath, 
While an aged sire was drawing 
Near unto the gate of death : 
His feeble pulse was failing, 

And his eye was growing dim, 
He was standing on the threshold 
When they brought the babe to him ; 

L 



62 Sacred Songs. 



While to murmur forth a blessing 

On the little one he tried, 
In his trembling arms he raised it, 

Press'd it to his lips, and died ; 
An awful darkness resteth 

On the path they both begin, 
Who thus met upon the threshold — 

Going out and coming in. 

Going out unto the triumph, 

Coming in unto the fight ; 
Coming in unto the darkness, 

Going out unto the light ; 
Although the shadow deepen'd 

In the moment of eclipse, 
When he pass'd through the dread portal 

With the blessing on his lips ; — 
And to him who bravely conquers, 

As he conquer'd in the strife, 
Life is but the way of dying, 

Death is but the gate of life. 
Yet awful darkness resteth 

On the path we all begin, 
Where we meet upon the threshold — 

Going out and coming in. 



£tep, Babj, Step ! 

George Wither. 

SLEEP, baby, sleep ! what ails my dear, 
What ails my darling thus to cry ? 
Be still, my child, and lend thine ear, 
To hear me sing thy lullaby. 



Sleep, Baby, Sleep! 163 

My pretty lamb, forbear to weep ; 
Be still, my dear ; sweet baby, sleep. 

Thou blessed soul, what canst thou fear ? 

What thing to thee can mischief do ? 
Thy God is now thy father dear, 

His holy Spouse, thy mother too. 
Sweet baby, then forbear to weep ; 
Be still, my babe ; sweet baby, sleep. 

Though thy conception was in sin, 

A sacred bathing thou hast had ; 
And though thy birth unclean hath been, 

A blameless babe thou now art made. 
Sweet baby, then forbear to weep ; 
Be still, my dear ; sweet baby, sleep. 

While thus thy lullaby I sing, 

For thee great blessings ripening be ; 

Thine Eldest Brother is a King, 

And hath a kingdom bought for thee. 

Sweet baby, then forbear to weep ; 

Be still, my babe ; sweet baby, sleep. 

Sweet baby, sleep, and nothing fear ; 

For whosoever thee offends 
By thy protector threaten'd are, 

And God and angels are thy friends. 
Sweet baby, then forbear to weep ; 
Be still, my babe ; sweet baby, sleep. 

When God with us was dwelling here, 

In little babes He took delight ; 
Such innocents as thou, my dear, 

Are ever precious in His sight. 



164 Sacred Songs 



Sweet baby, then forbear to weep ; 
Be still, my babe ; sweet baby, sleep. 

A little infant once was He ; 

And strength in weakness then was laid 
Upon His virgin mother's knee, 

That power to thee might be convey'd. 
Sweet baby, then forbear to weep ; 
Be still, my babe ; sweet baby, sleep. 

In this thy frailty and thy need 

He friends and helpers doth prepare. 

Which thee shall cherish, clothe, and feed, 
For of thy weal they tender are. 

Sweet baby, then forbear to weep ; 

Be still, my babe ; sweet baby, sleep. 

The King of kings, when He was born, 
Had not so much for outward ease ; 

By Him such dressings were not worn, 
Nor such-like swaddling-clothes as these. 

Sweet baby, then forbear to weep ; 

Be still, my babe ; sweet baby, sleep. 

Within a manger lodged thy Lord, 
Where oxen lay, and asses fed : 

Warm rooms we do to thee afford, 
An easy cradle or a bed. 

Sweet baby, then forbear to weep ; 

Be still, my babe ; sweet baby, sleep. 

The wants that He did then sustain 

Have purchased wealth, my babe, for thee 

And by His torments and his pain 
Thy rest and ease secured be. 



1 he Harp the Monarch Minstrel Swept. 165 

My baby, then forbear to weep ; 
Be still, my babe ; sweet baby, sleep. 

Thou hast, yet more, to perfect this, 

A promise and an earnest got 
Of gaining everlasting bliss, 

Though thou, my babe, perceiv'st it not ; 
Sweet baby, then forbear to weep ; 
Be still, my babe ; sweet baby, sleep. 



T 



Lord Byron. — Music by Isaac Nathan. 

HE harp the monarch minstrel swept, 
The king of men, the loved of Heaven, 
Which Music hallow'd while she wept 

O'er tones her heart of hearts had given, 

Redoubled be her tears, its chords are riven ! 
It soften'd men of iron mould, 

It gave them virtues not their own ; 
No ear so dull, no soul so cold 

That felt not, fired not to the tone, 

Till David's lyre grew mightier than his throne ! 

It told the triumphs of our king, 

It wafted glory to our God ; 
It made our gladden'd valleys ring, 

The cedars bow, the mountains nod ; 

Its sound aspired to Heaven and their abode ! 
Since then, though heard on earth no more, 

Devotion, and her daughter, Love, 
Still bid the bursting spirit soar 

To sounds that seem as from above, 

In dreams that day's broad light cannot remove. 



1 66 Sacred Songs. 



DUET 

J. E. Carpenter. — Music by Stephen Glover. 

NAOMI. 

GO forth ! my hearth is desolate, 
I 'm old and childless now ; 
God's wrath falls at the widow's gate, 

~His hand is on her brow ; 
But thou, my well-beloved Ruth, 

Earth's blessings may command ; 
Back in thy beauty and thy youth, 
Back to thine own bright land ! 

RUTH. 

Nay, mother — still my mother dear, 

For was not he, thy son, 
Now call'd away from earth's dull sphere, 

Mine own beloved one ? 
Mother, I still will cleave to thee, 

A blessing in thine age, 
A guide, a help, if such may be, 

Through thy lone pilgrimage. 

BOTH. 

The dead have pass'd the widow's gate, 

The loved ones all are flown : 
Oh ! who remain so desolate 

As they who mourn alone ? 

NAOMI. 
Beloved, amid Judea's band 

My kindred dwell, but thine 
Are distant from that holy land, 

Nor pray at Judah's shrine : 



The Nautilus. 167 



Yet, kindly as ye dealt with him, 
The dead — so deal with me, 

And till these aged eyes grow dim 
I will remember thee. 

RUTH. 
Ask me no more to leave thy side, 

Intreat me not to go, 
For wheresoe'er thou may'st abide., 

There will I dwell also ; 
And I will bend the suppliant knee 

With thee at Judah's shrine ; 
Thy people shall my people be, 

And thy God shall be mine- 

BOTH. 

And we will bend the suppliant knee 

At Judah's holy shrine ; 
Thy people shall my people be, 

And thy God shall be mine. 



W. E. Staite. — Music by C. Hodgson. 

FAR o'er the wave when the winds are asleep, 
And hush'd is the cry of the sea-bird's wild note, 
And the sunshine of heaven plays over the deep, 

There the Nautilus glides in her beautiful boat ; 
How she spreads her broad sail, how she speeds on her flight 

All alone on the billow she feels no alarm, 
A vision of beauty, a creature of light ; 

She dreams not of danger, she dreads not the storm ; 



1 68 Sacred Songs. 



Should a tempest arise, swiftly furl'd is the sail, 
One moment she lingers, we see her no more ; 

She is gone where she hears not the blast of the gale, 
To sleep till the storm and the tempest are o'er. 

In that beautiful creature an emblem I see 

Of a spirit redeem'd, of a soul that 's at rest, 
Embark' d on the waves of life's treacherous sea, 

While the sunshine of glory plays over her breast. 
All unfurl' d is the sail, for the breathings of love 

Waft her sweetly away from the troubles of time ; 
She fears not the billows while gazing above, 

As she steers her frail bark to heaven's beautiful clime 
Should the storm roll around, should the waters prevail, 

She flies to the haven of safety and peace, 
In the depths of His mercy she hides from the gale, 

And sleeps till the storm and the tempest shall cease. 



Wizvz not tjje Sinful 9®avp& 1*ar& 

T. Moore. — Air, Stevenson. 

WERE not the sinful Mary's tears 
An offering worthy Heaven, 
When o'er the faults of former years 
She v/ept — and was forgiven. 

When bringing every balmy sweet 

Her day of luxury stored, 
She o'er her Saviour's hallow'd feet 

The precious odours pour'd. 

And wiped them with that golden hair, 
Where once the diamond shone, 

Though now those gems of grief were there 
Which shine for God alone ! 



Blessed are the Pure in Spirit. 



Were not those sweets, so humbly shed- 
That hair — those weeping eyes — 

And the sunk heart, that inly bled, 
Heaven's noblest sacrifice ? 

Thou that hast slept in error's sleep, 
Oh, wouldst thou wake in heaven, 

Like Mary kneel, like Mary weep, 
" Love much," * and be forgiven ! 



£!*££*& are t\z $uvz in Spirit* 

J. E. Carpenter. — Music by Pohlenz. 

BLESSED are the pure in spirit, 
Who all worldly joys despise, 
Seeking only to inherit 

Purer mansions in the skies ; 
They whose hope in heaven is centred, 

Trusting to His word alone, 
Who the righteous path have enter'd 
That shall lead them to His throne. 

Blessed are the poor, whose treasure 

Is the worth that passeth show, 
Whom our heavenly Lord shall measure 

By their good deeds here below ; 
Though no earthly princes heed them, 

They shall see their Maker's face, 
When the last great day shall lead them 

To His heavenly throne of grace. 

* Luke vii. 47. 



j 70 Sacred Songs. 



Cfjrigtmag S^orru 

Alfred Tennyson. 

THE time draws near the birth of Christ 
The moon is hid ; the night is still ; 
The Christmas bells from hill to hill 
Answer each other in the mist. 

Four voices of four hamlets round, 

From far and near, on mead and moor, 
Swell out and fail, as if a door 

Were shut between me and the sound. 

Each voice four changes on the wind, 
That now dilate, and now decrease, 
Peace and goodwill, goodwill and peace, 

Peace and goodwill to all mankind. 

Rise, happy morn ! rise, holy morn ! 

Draw forth the cheerful day from night : 
O Father ! touch the east, and light 

The light that shone when Hope was born. 



flDtt 3Ioriiatt*0 JBanfc* 

Lord Byron.— Music by J. Braham. 

ON Jordan's bank the Arab's camels stray, 
On Sion's hill the false one's votaries pray, 
The Baal-adorer bows on Sinai's steep — 
Yet there — even there — O God ! Thy thunders sleep. 



Where is your Dwelling, ye Sainted ? 171 

There — where Thy finger scorch'd the tablet-stone ! 
There — where Thy shadow to Thy people shone ! 
Thy glory shrouded in its garb of fire ; 
Thyself — none living see and not expire. 

Oh ! in the lightning let Thy glance appear, 
Sweep from his shiver'd hand the oppressor's spear : 
How long by tyrants shall Thy land be trod ? 
How long Thy temple worshipless, O God ? 



(LSifjere te pour 2Dtoellfng;, pt feamteti 

T. Moore.— A ir, Hasse. 

WHERE is your dwelling, ye sainted ? 
Through what Elysium more bright 
Than fancy or hope ever painted, 

Walk ye in glory and light ? 
Who the same kingdom inherits ? 

Breathes there a soul that may dare 
Look to that world of spirits, 

Or hope to dwell with you there ? 

Sages ! who, even in exploring 

Nature through all her bright ways, 
Went, like the seraphs adoring, 

And veil'd your eyes in the blaze, — 
Martyrs ! who left for our reaping 

Truths you had sown in your blood, — 
Sinners ! whom long years of weeping 

Chasten'd from evil to good, — 



172 Sacred Songs. 



Maidens ! who, like the young crescent, 

Turning away your pale brows 
From earth, and the light of the present, 

Look'd to your Heavenly Spouse, — 
Say, through what region enchanted 

Walk ye, in heaven's sweet air ? 
Say to what spirit 'tis granted, 

Bright souls, to dwell with you there. 



fje ^eart'0 Hon gins* 

F. W. Faber. 

O PARADISE! O Paradise! 
Who doth not crave for rest ? 
Who doth not seek the happy land 
Where they that loved are blest ? 
Where loyal hearts and true 

Stand ever in the light, 
All rapture through and through, 
In God's most holy sight. 

O Paradise ! O Paradise ! 

'Tis weary waiting here : 

We long to be where Jesus is, 

To feel, to see Him near ; 

Where loyal hearts and true 

Stand ever in the light, 
All rapture through and through, 
In God's most holy sight. 



The L ongest Day. 173 

O Paradise ! O Paradise ! 

We want to sin no more ; 
We want to be as pure on earth 
As on thy spotless shore ; 

Where loyal hearts and true 

Stand ever in the light, 
All rapture through and through, 
In God's most holy sight. 



William Wordsworth. 

LET us quit the leafy arbour, 
And the torrent murmuring by : 
For the sun is in his harbour, 
W T eary of the open sky. 

Evening now unbinds the fetters 
Fashion'd by the glowing light ; 

All that breathe are thankful debtors 
To the harbinger of night. 

Yet by some grave thoughts attended 
Eve renews her calm career ; 

For the day that now is ended, 
Is the longest of the year. 

Summer ebbs ; each day that follows 

Is a reflux from on high, 
Tending to the darksome hollows 

Where the frosts of winter lie. 



174 Sacred Songs, 



He who governs the creation, 

In His providence, assign'd 
Such a gradual declination 

To the life of human kind. 

Yet we mark it not ; fruits redden, 

Fresh flowers blow, as flowers have blown, 

And the heart is loath to deaden 
Hopes that she so long hath known. 

Be thou wiser, youthful maiden ! 

And, when thy decline shall come, 
Let not flowers, or bough fruit-laden, 

Hide the knowledge of thy doom. 

Now, e'en now, ere wrapp'd in slumber, 

Fix thine eyes upon the sea 
That absorbs time, space, and number — 

Look thou to eternity ! 



%ty flfllortf) of %imz+ 

J. E. Carpenter.— Music by E. Perry. 

AN old man and a little child 
Together went their way, 
Amid the blossoms of the wild 

The child oft paused to play ; 
" Ah ! trifle not amid the flowers," 
The gray-hair' d teacher said, 
" For precious are the passing hours, 
And mourn'd as soon as fled." 



Holy Ground. 175 



The old man took the little child 

And led him by the hand, 
But still where'er a blossom smiled 

The boy contrived to stand ; 
" Ah ! linger not, although the flowers 

To thee a joy may bring, 
They but remind me of the hours 

I lost in my life's spring." 

The child went on — the old man fled, 

But ne'er the boy forgot 
The words that gray-hair'd teacher said 

Through all his future lot : 
And wisely are his children taught 

When in some olden rhyme 
He tells them how he first was brought 

To know the worth of time* 



^olp (0rounti. 

J. E. Carpenter. 

IV J OT alone by the old gray towers, 

-L ^ Where the dim cathedral shadow lowers ; 

Not alone where the line they trace 

Points to the " consecrated place ; " 

Not alone where the churchman kneels, 

Nor where the solemn organ peals, 

Nor where the anthem's echoes sound, — 

There are other spots call'd— holy ground ! 

Where heroes fallen in battle sleep, 

Where the sailor lies 'neath the surging deep, 



176 Sacred Songs. 



Where the emigrant, in the forest wild, 

Leaves the corse of his darling child. 

Far away on the sun-burnt sod, 

Where the exiled Christian kneels to God, 

Distant far from the city's sound ; 

These spots are hallow'd, and — holy ground ! 

Not alone where the willow waves 
O'er sculptured urns and trophied graves ; 
Not alone where the sunbeams smile 
Through the colour'd panes of the cloister'd aisle 
'Tis a sacred spot where, in solemn prayer, 
The mother kneels with her children fair, — 
A spot 'neath the humblest roof-tree found ; 
" There tread lightly," 'tis — holy ground. 



Mrs Jane T. Worthington. 

IT visiteth the desolate, 
Who hath no friend beside, 
And bringeth peace to sadden'd souls 

Whose hope, deferr'd, had died : 
It layeth its caressing hand 

Upon the brow of care, 
And calleth to the faded lips 
The smile they used to wear. 

And lovely is the angel light 

Of a little child's repose, 
The holiest and the sweetest rest 

Our human nature knows. 



Fallen is thy Throne. IJJ 



Such rest as cannot close the eyes, 
Grown old with many tears, 

That never soothes the pilgrim path 
Of life's dejected years. 

" He giveth His beloved sleep ! " 

And thanks for such a boon, 
And thanks, too, for the deeper sleep, 

That will be with us soon — 
From which our long o'erladen hearts 

Shall wake to pain no more, 
But find fulfill'd the fairest thoughts 

They only dream'd before. 



fallen is tfip %t\vmz+ 

T. Moore. — Air, Martini. 

FALLEN is thy throne, O Israel ! 
Silence is o'er thy plains ; 
Thy dwellings all lie desolate, 

Thy children weep in chains. 
Where are the dews that fed thee 

On Etham's barren shore ? 
That fire from heaven which led thee, 
N ow lights thy path no more. 

Lord ! Thou didst love Jerusalem — 

Once she was all Thine own ; 
Her love Thy fairest heritage,* 

Her power Thy glory's throne. t 
Till evil came and blighted 

Thy long-loved olive-tree,J 
And Salem's shrines were lighted 

For other gods than Thee. 

Jer. xii. 7. •}• Jer. xiv. 21. \ Jer. xi. 16. 

M 



178 Sacred Songs. 

Then sunk the star of Solyma — 

Then pass'd her glory's day, 
Like heath that in the wilderness * 

The wild winds whirl away. 
Silent and waste her bowers, 

Where once the mighty trod, 
And sunk those guilty towers, 

Where Baal reign' d as God. 



" Go" — said the Lord— "ye conquerors !" 

" Steep in her blood your swords, 
And raze to earth her battlements, + 

For they are not the Lord's. 
Till Zion's mournful daughter % 

O'er kindred's bones shall tread, 
And Hinnom's vale of slaughter 

Shall hide but half her dead ! " 



3|£ tfjere an flttnfcelfrtier ? 

Thomas Haynes Bayly.— Music by Bayly. 

IS there an unbeliever ! 
One man who walks the earth, 
And madly doubts that Providence 

Watch'd o'er him at his birth ? 
He robs mankind for ever 

Of hope beyond the tomb ; 
What gives he as a recompense ? — 
The brute's unhallow'd doom. 

' Jer. xvii. 6. f Jer. v. 10. % Jer. vtf. 32. 



The Dumb Creation. 1 79 

In manhood's loftiest hour, 

In health, in strength, and pride, 
Oh ! lead his steps through alleys green, 

Where rills 'mid cowslips glide ; 
Climb nature's granite tower, 

Where man hath rarely trod, 
And will he then, in such a scene, 

Deny there is a God ? 

Yes, — the proud heart will ever 

Prompt the false tongue's, reply, — 
An Omnipotent Providence 

Still madly he '11 deny. 
But see the unbeliever 

Sinking in death's decay, 
And hear the cry of penitence ; — 

He never learnt to pray ! 



%A)Z SDumI) Creation. 

Miss Anne C. Lynch. 

T^VEAL kindly with those speechless ones 
*-S That throng our gladsome earth ; 
Say not the bounteous gift of life 
Alone is nothing worth. 

What though with mournful memories 

They sigh not for the past ? 
What though their ever-joyous now 

No future overcast ? 

No aspirations fill their breast 

With longings undefined ; 
They live, they love, and they are blest, 

For what they seek and find. 



8o Sacred Songs. 



They see no mystery in the stars, 

No wonder in the plain, 
And life's enigma wakes in them 

No questions dark and vain. 

To them earth is a final home, 

A bright and blest abode ; 
Their lives unconsciously flow on 

In harmony with God. 

To this fair world our human hearts 

Their hopes and longings bring, 
And o'er its beauty and its bloom 

Their own dark shadows fling. 

Between the future and the past 

In wild unrest we stand, 
And ever as our feet advance, 

Retreats the promised land. 

But though Love, Fame, and Wealth, and Power, 

Bind in their gilded band, 
We pine to grasp the unattaind — 

The something still beyond. 

And, beating on their prison bars, 

Our spirits ask more room, 
And with unanswer'd questionings, 

They pierce beyond the tomb. 

Then say thou not, oh ! doubtful heart ! 

There is no life to come : 
That in some tearless, cloudless land 

Thou shalt not find thy home ! 



Resignation. 1 8 1 



IBLegfjytiatfoiu 

E. Young. 

IS Resignation's lesson hard ? 
Examine, we shall find 
That duty gives up little more 
Than anguish of the mind. 

Grief's most inglorious coward tears 
From brutal eyes have ran ; 

Smiles, incommunicable smiles, 
Are radiant marks of man. 

They cast a sudden glory round 
The illumined human face ; 

And light in sons of honest joy 
Some beams of Moses' face. 

Resign, and all the load of life 
That moment you remove ; 

Its heavy tax, ten thousand cares 
Devolve on One above ; 

Who bids us lay our burden down 

On His Almighty hand ; 
Softens our duty to relief, 

To blessing, His command. 

For joy what cause ? how every sense 

Is courted from above ! 
The year around with presents rich, 

The growth of endless love ! 

But most o'erlook the blessings pour'd, 

Forget the wonders done, 
And terminate, wrapt up in sense, 

Their prospect at the sun. 



1 82 Sacred Songs. 



From that, their final point of view, 

From that, their radiant goal, 
On travel infinite of thought 

Sets out the nobler soul — 

Broke loose from time's tenacious ties 

And earth's involving gloom, 
To range at last its vast domain, 

And talk with worlds to come. 

Who would not with a heart at ease, 

Bright eye, unclouded brow, 
Wisdom and goodness at the helm, 

The roughest ocean plough ? 

Thy will is welcome, let it wear 

Its most tremendous form ; 
Roar waves ! rage winds ! I know that Thou 

Canst save me in a storm. 

For what is Resignation ? 'tis 

Man's weakness understood ; 
And wisdom grasping with a hand 

Far stronger, every good. 



feonn; of pcafct* 

Psalm cxiv. 10. 

J. E. Carpenter. — Music by Stephen Glover. 

COME, let's sing in tuneful numbers 
Songs of triumph, songs of praise; 
All creation hymns His glory, 
Let us then our voices raise. 



" Soon — and for Ever ! " 183 

Every hill and vale rejoices, 

Every flower that decks the sward, 
All that lives and moves around us, 
Sing the praises of the Lord. 

Hallelujah ! let us sing 

Praise unto our Heavenly King. 

Heaven is now the earth arraying 

In its robe of summer sheen, 
Flowers their brightness are displaying 

On its mantle rich and green ; 
Up to heaven the lark ascending 

Sings his carols to the sky ; 
Winds and waves, in music blending, — 

All His greatness glorify. 

Hallelujah ! let us sing 

Praise unto our Heavenly King. 



I 



u £>oon— anti for <E6erl" 

Rev. J. S. B. Monsell, D.D. 

SOON— and for ever ! 
Such promise our trust, 
Though ashes to ashes 

And dust unto dust ; 
Soon — and for ever 

Our union shall be 
Made perfect, our glorious 

Redeemer, in Thee. 
When the sins and the sorrows 

Of time shall be o'er, 
Its pangs and its partings 

Remember'd no more ; 



84 Sacred Songs. 



When life cannot fail 

And when death cannot sevei 
Christians with Christ shall be 

Soon — and for ever. 



Soon — and for ever 

The breaking of day 
Shall drive all the dark clouds 

Of sorrow away. 
Soon — and for ever 

We '11 see as we 're seen, 
And learn the deep meaning 

Of things that have been. 
When fightings without us, 

And fears from within, 
Shall weary no more 

In the warfare of sin. 
Where tears, and where fears, 

And where death shall be — never, 
Christians with Christ shall be 

Soon — and for ever. 



Soon — and for ever 

The work shall be done, 
The warfare accomplished, 

The victory won. 
Soon — and for ever 

The soldier lay down 
His sword for a harp, 

And his cross for a crown. 
Then droop not in sorrow, 

Despond not in fear, 
A glorious to-morrow 

Is brightening and near ; 



The Spirit's Home. 185 

When — blessed reward 

Of each faithful endeavour — 
Christians with Christ shall be 

Soon — and for ever. 



Strong fattf) ana perfect Hotie* 

J. E. Carpenter. — Music by Stephen Glover. 

WHY should we bring a broken heart 
To offer at the throne 
Of Him who holds our meanest part 

As if it were His own ? 
If 'tis but sorrow here below, 

Does not hope point above ? 
Then let us through life's journeying show 
Strong faith and perfect love. 

It is a grievous thing you say 

To suffer and to bear ; 
But did not One we all obey 

More than His burthen share ? 
For us He died, that we might know 

Those boundless realms above ; 
Then let us through life's journeyings show 

Strong faith and perfect love. 



W. E. STAITE.— Music by E. J. Loder. 

\ \ 7" HEN weeping o'er some sacred spot 

* * That holds what once we call'd a friend. 
How sadly mournful seems the lot 
Of all things here so soon to end ! 



1 86 Sacred Songs. 



Gay youth, no less than tott'ring age, 
Together rest in Death's embrace : 

Go read the monumental page, 
And there this gloomy moral trace — 

The gay, the grave, youth, age, are found 

Alike beneath the grassy mound. 

Beyond this dark and narrow sphere, 

So mark'd by Death, so touch'd by Time, 
Where joy ne'er melts in sorrow's tear; 

There surely is some happier clime ! 
This thought should every grief assuage, 

From every heart its gloom efface : 
Go read the consecrated page, 

And there the fond assurance trace — 
"Beyond the starry skies they roam, 
There lies the ransom'd spirit's home. 



lie fashion of tW ft&oriii Pa^^etlj £toap< 

Thomas Haynes Bayly. — Air, Bingly. 

THE fashion of this world passeth away, 
The things that are fairest are first to decay ; 
The bell of the lily, the leaf of the rose ; 
The moss on the bank where the violet grows ; 
All these are too sweet and too fragile to stay, 
For the fashion of this world passeth away. 

But mourn not the doom of inanimate things ; 
See thy favourite bird, with its beautiful wings ; 
Thy dog, full of instinct that courts a caress, 
And scarcely wants language his words to express ; 
The steed thou art proud of — all — all must decay, 
For the fashion of this world passeth away. 



Prayer at Midnight. 



And were we not born for a worthier end, 

Than to love him, and lose him ? Oh ! what were 

a friend ! 
The fond heart looks forth from its pilgrimage here 
To a meeting more blest in a happier sphere. 
For this we must watch, and for this we must pray. 
Since the fashion of this world passeth away. 



|9ra?*r at S^iimfgftt* 

A. DE Vere. 

'THE stars shine bright while earth is dark ! 
-■■ While all the woods are dumb, 
Kow clear those far-off silver chimes 
From tower and turret come. 

Chilly but sweet, the midnight air : 

And lo ! with every sound, 
Down from the ivy-leaf a drop 

Falls glittering on the ground 

'Twas night when Christ was born on earth ; 

Night heard His first, faint cry ; 
While angels caroll'd round the star 

Of the Epiphany. 

Alas ! and is our love too weak 

To meet Him on His way ? 
To pray for nations in their sleep ? 

For Love then let us pray. 



Sacred Songs. 



Pray for the millions slumbering now ; 

The sick who cannot sleep ; 
Oh, may those sweet sounds waft them thoughts 

As peaceful, and as deep. 



Pray for the unholy, and the vain : 
Oh, may that pure-toned bell 

Disperse the demon powers of air, 
And evil dreams dispel ! 

And ever let us wing our prayer 
With praise : and ever say, 

Glory to God who makes the night 
Benignant as the day 1 



gfilictfoiu 

Bishop Wilberforce. 

WITHIN this leaf, to every eye 
So little worth, doth hidden lie 
Most rare and subtle fragrancy. 

Wouldst thou its secret strength unbind 
Crush it, and thou perfume shall find 
Sweet as Arabia's spicy wind, 

In this stone, so poor and bare 
Of shape and lustre, patient care 
Will find for thee a jewel rare. 

But first must skilful hands assay 

With file and flint to clear away 

The film which hides its fire from day. 



"Let not the Sun go Down on your Wrath!' i> 

This leaf ! this stone ! it is thy heart : 
It must be crush'd by pain and smart, 
It must be cleansed by sorrow's art, 

Ere it will yield a fragrance sweet, 
Ere it will shine, a jewel neat, 
To lay before thy dear Lord's feet. 



%tt not ttje »>tm p 3Dotutt on gour ftfllratfj-" 

J. E. Carpenter. — Music by J. R. Thomas. 

WHEN in thy bosom the wrath has been kindled, 
Bear with thy wrong, not in anger defend ; 
Turn not away from the crowd where you mingled, 

Leaving a foe where you sought for a friend : 
Speak not in anger, but rather in sorrow ; 

Part, and though each take a different path, 
Both may be wiser and better to-morrow ; 
" Let not the sun go down on your wrath." 

What though your prospects a moment seem blighted, 

Trusting to others, by others betray'd, 
There is not a wrong that can never be righted ; 

Justice was never by quarrelling made. 
Urge but the truth, and be guided by reason, 

Leaving to others the opposite path, 
So will you triumph — but all in good season ; — 

" Let not the sun go down on your wrath." 



190 Sacred Songs. 



^Different 9£fnW* 

Archbishop Trench. 

SOME murmur, when the sky is clear 
And wholly bright to view, 
If one small speck of dark appear 

In their great heaven of blue : 
And some with thankful love are fill'd 

If but one streak of light, 
One ray of God's good mercy, gild 
The darkness of their night. 

In palaces are hearts that ask, 

In discontent and pride, 
Why life is such a dreary task 

And all good things denied : 
And hearts in poorest huts admire 

How Love has in their aid 
(Love that not ever seems to tire) 

Such rich provision made. 



Ifte^tgnatiotu 

H. W. LONGFELLOW. — Music by Miss Lindsay. 

THERE is no flock, however watch'd and tended, 
But one dead lamb is there ; 
There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, 
But has one vacant chair. 

The air is full of farewells to the dying 

And mournings for the dead ; 
The heart of Rachel, for her children crying, 

Will not be comforted. 



R esignation, 191 



Let us be patient ! These severe afflictions 

Not from the ground arise, 
But oftentimes celestial benedictions 

Assume this dark disguise. 

We see but dimly through the mists and vapours ; 

Amid these earthly damps, 
What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers, 

May be Heaven's distant lamps. 

There is no Death ! What seems so is transition ; 

This life of mortal breath 
Is but a suburb of the life Elysian, 

Whose portal we call Death. 

She is not dead, — the child of our affection, — 

But gone unto that school 
Where she no longer needs our poor protection, 

And Christ Himself doth rule. 

In that great cloister's stillness and seclusion, 

By guardian angels led, 
Safe from temptation, safe from sin's pollution, 

She lives whom we call dead. 

Day after day, we think what she is doing 

In those bright realms of air : 
Year after year, her tender steps pursuing, 

Behold her grown more fair. 

Thus do we walk with her, and keep unbroken 

The bond which nature gives, 
Thinking that our remembrance, though unspoken, 

May reach her where she lives. 



1 92 Sacred Songs. 



Not as a child shall we again behold her ; 

For, when with raptures wild, 
In our embraces we again enfold her, 

She will not be a child ; 

But a fair maiden in her Father's mansion, 

Clothed with celestial grace ; 
And beautiful with all the soul's expansion 

Shall we behold her face. 

And though at times impetuous with emotion 

And anguish long suppress'd, 
The swelling heart heaves moaning like the ocean 

That cannot be at rest, — 

We will be patient, and assuage the feeling 

We may not wholly stay ; 
By silence sanctifying, not concealing, 

The grief that must have way. 



DUET. 

J. E. Carpenter. — Music by Stephen Glover. 

THE wilderness shall be made glad 
And blossom like the rose ; 
The desert shall rejoice for them 

Who on His word repose ; 
They who have own'd the mighty power 

And excellence of Him, 
Before whose face the stars are pale, 
The sun itself is dim ! 



The Marriage Portion. 193 

And they the beauty shall behold 

Of Lebanon restored, 
And with loud joy and singing praise 

The glory of the Lord ! 

•And the lame man shall leap as the hart, 

The eyes of the blind be made clear, 
And the dumb in the song shall take part, 

The ears of the deaf made to hear ; 
And o'er the parch'd and thirsty earth 

The living well shall pour, 
And all things have a brighter birth 

Henceforth and evermore ; 
And the ransom'd of the Lord 

He to Zion shall restore, 
In joy to praise His holy word 

With gladness evermore ! 



C&e Carriage Portion. 

Num. vi. 24-26. 

J. E. Carpenter.— Music by M. T. Paradis. 

LORD and Father of creation ! 
From Thy heavenly throne above, 
Make Thy face to shine upon them, 

Deign to bless their plighted love ; 
Through the world to bless and keep them, 

Though the evil way be wide, 
Give them strength as on they journey, 
With Thy light their footsteps guide. 

To the bride, beyond her beauty, 
Give her still Thy grace to know ; 

To the bridegroom, for her portion, 
On her heavenly gifts bestow. 

N 



194 Sacred Songs. 



So their bridal gifts shall never 
Fade, as earthly things decay, 

But the bride and bridegroom ever 
Walk together in Thy way. 



%ilz Scorning;,, toljett fjer (Earlj 3m$z< 

T. Moore. — Air, Beethoven. 



L 



IKE morning, when her early breeze 
Breaks up the surface of the seas, 



Her hand may sow the seeds of light — 

Thy grace can send its breathings o'er 
The spirit, dark and lost before, 
And freshening all its depths, prepare 
For Truth divine to enter there. 

Till David touch'd his sacred lyre, 
In silence lay the unbreathing wire ; 
But when he swept its chords along, 
Even angels stoop'd to hear that song. 

So sleeps the soul, till Thou, O Lord, 
Shalt deign to touch its lifeless chord — 
Till, waked by Thee, its breath shall rise 
In music worthy of the skies ! 



Magdalen's Hymn during the Plague. 195 

C&e 2D?fng; Cljrigttaru 

Phil. i. 23. 

J. E. Carpenter. — Air, German. 

I HAVE a desire to depart, obeying 
The heavenly call that bids me fly to rest ; 
Tired and weary, through the darkness straying, 

Fain would I be with angels ever bless'd ; 
Worn is my pilgrim's staff, — my days expended ; 

The home I lived for distant cannot be ; 
Why should I cling to earth ? its ties are ended ; 
It is the grave that sets the Christian free. 

What is the earth to me, with all its errors ? 

Long have I struggled with its empty show ; 
But to the sinful heart the grave has terrors, 

Not to the righteous ones, prepared to go ; 
Farewell, ye friends whose tears so fast are falling, 

Weep not that I so soon must take my flight ; 
Oh, may ye hear, like me, the angels calling, 

And long to join them in the realms of light. 



flpagdalen'af 3i?pmn During: tlje plague, 

John Wilson. 

THE air of death breathes through our souls, 
The dead all round us lie ; 
By day and night the death-bell tolls, 
And says, " Prepare to die." 

The face that in the morning sun 

We thought so wondrous fair, 
Hath faded, ere his course was run, 

Beneath its golden hair. 



ig6 Sacred Songs. 



I see the old man in his grave 
With thin locks silvery-gray ; 

I see -the child's bright tresses wave 
In the cold breath of day. 

The loving ones we loved the best, 

Like music, all are gone ! 
And the wan moonlight bathes in rest 

Their monumental stone. 

But not when the death prayer is said 

The life of life departs ; 
Tt;e body in the grave is laid, 

Its beauty in our hearts. 

At holy midnight, voices sweet 
Like fragrance fill the room, 

And happy ghosts with noiseless feet 
Come bright'ning from the. tomb. 

We know who sends the visions bright, 
From whose dear side they came ! — 

We veil our eyes before the light, 
We bless our Saviour's name. 

This frame of dust, this feeble breath, 
The plague may soon destroy ; 

We think on Thee, and feel in death 
A deep and awful joy. 

Dim is the light of vanish'd years 

In the glory yet to come ; 
Oh, idle grief ! oh, foolish tears ! 

When Jesus calls us home. 



Blessed are the Dead. 197 

Like children for some bauble fair 

That weep themselves to rest, 
We part with life — awake ! and there 

The jewel in our breast. 



©ieggeti arc tlje SDeatu 

Rev. xiv. 13. 

J. E. Carpenter. — Music by Tiirk. 

QTREW his early grave with flowers, 
^-^ They the fragile emblems are ; 
He has gain'd those blissful bowers 

In the cloudless realms afar ; 
There the blooms that never wither 

Shall their incense round him shed, 
Grieve not — Heaven has called him thither ; 

Weep not — Blessed are the dead ! 

Father — think he is but sleeping, 

Though 'tis darkness there to thee ; 
Mother — stand not idly weeping, 

He '11 his Heavenly Father see ; 
Though your hearts with grief are breaking, 

Joys celestial round him spread, 
Death is but to Life awaking : — 

Weep not — Blessed are the dead. 



198 Sacred Songs. 



T. MOORE. — Air, Beethoven. 

THE bird let loose in eastern skies,* 
When hastening fondly home, 
Ne'er stoops to earth her wing, nor flies 

Where idle warblers roam, 
But high she shoots through air and light, 

Above all low delay, 
When nothing earthly bounds her flight, 
Nor shadow dims her way. 

So grant me, God, from every care 

And stain of passion free, 
Aloft, through Virtue's purer air, 

To hold my course to Thee ! 
No sin to cloud, no lure to stay 

My soul, as home she springs ; 
Thy sunshine on her joyful way, 

Thy freedom in her wings ! 



Psalm v. 3. 

J. E. Carpenter.— Music by F. Wallerstien. 

SILENCE without, and calm within the dwelling, 
The lazy flowrets slumber in the sun ; 
The half-mown hay stands in the meadow, telling 
The busy labour of the week is done. 

* The carrier pigeon, it is well known, flies at an elevated pitch, in order to 
surmount every obstacle between her and the place to which she is destined. 



Sabbath Eve. 199 



Faintly, yet clear, the village bells are ringing, 
From distant cots the peasant band to warn ; 

Their anthems in the grove the birds are singing ; 
And all proclaims it is the Sabbath morn. 

Through the green lanes the village groups are bendim 

By primrose banks the children take their way, 
Where the tall spire, above the trees ascending, 

Proclaims to ail it is the hallow'd day. 
Sweet to the senses breathe the leaves and flowers, 

The heart leaps up to see the growing corn ; 
We thank thee, Father, for these peaceful hours 

Of prayer and rest — Thy holy Sabbath morn. 



feafcimtlj (Efte* 

Psalm xxxiv. 7. 

J. E. Carpenter. — Music by F. Wallerstien. 

I WANDER' D forth one Sabbath eve, 
When twilight shrouded hill and stream, 
And holy angels seem'd to weave 

For weary hearts some blissful dream. 
The sun had set behind the hill, 

No sound disturb'd the tranquil air ; 
The voice of bee and bird was still, 

The very flowers seem'd bow'd in prayer. 
Sweet Sabbath eve ! 

It may be that I slept a while, 

For when again I mark'd the skies, 

The moon beam'd with a placid smile, 
The stars had oped their golden eyes. 



200 Sacred Songs. 



And when, once more, I turn'd to roam. 
My weary heart again grew light ; 

With chasten' d soul I sought my home, 
And bless'd my God that gave the night. 
Sweet Sabbath eve ! 



W. E. Staite.— Music by E. J. Loder. 

WHEN murky clouds obscure the sky, 
When billows roll and winds are high, 
And not one star of beauty's night 

Sheds o'er my way its cheering light, 
Dash'd on the wild tempestuous tide, 
My shatter'd bark shall safely ride, 
If Thou the Pilot's part perform, 

To guide and guard me through the storm. 

'Tis thou, O Lord, canst whisper peace, 

And bid the storms of trouble cease ; 
Though half a wreck my barque I view, 

Thine arm can steer me safely through. 
Thy love shall bid my fears depart, 

Thy voice shall cheer my trembling heart, 
If Thou the Pilot's part perform, 

To guide and guard me through the storm. 



I 



%\z C&itti'iaf (Bratie* 

Mrs Jane T. Worthington. 
T is a place where tender thought 



Its voiceless vigil keepeth ; 
It is a place where kneeling love, 
'Mid all its hope, still weepeth: 



He changes not. 201 



The vanish' d light of all a life 

That tiny spot encloseth, 
Where, follow'd by a thousand dreams, 

The little one reposeth. 

It is a place where thankfulness 

A tearful tribute giveth : 
That one so pure hath left a world 

Where so much sorrow liveth — 
Where trial, to the heavy heart, 

Its constant cross presenteth, 
And every hour some trace retains, 

For which the soul repenteth. 

It is a place for hope to rise, 

While other brightness waneth, 
And from the darkness of the grave 

To learn what gift it gaineth — 
From Him who wept, as on the earth 

Undying love still weepeth — 
From Him who spake the blessed words, 

" She is not dead, but sleepeth." 



l?e c$anp0 not, 

J. E. Carpenter.— Music by J. W. Cherry. 

HE changes not, but is the same for ever; 
Behold His works, how uniform and grand : 
The mighty ocean still flows on, and never 

Fails the ripe harvest in the cultured land ; 
The seed time and the harvest are unchanging ; 

Year after year the bright flowers come and go ; 
'Tis we alone whose minds are ever ranging, 
Yearning for something that we ne'er may know. 



202 Sacred Songs. 



He changes not — His goodness is unfailing; 

Why should we spurn the paths our fathers trod ? 
Their simple forms, their holy shrines assailing ? 

Do we not worship still the same wise God ? 
God of our fathers ! at Thy altars bending, 

Guide us, weak pilgrims, with Thy helping hand ; 
So that our prayers, heavenward ascending, 

May reach Thy mansions in the promised land. 



ftaieep, C&ilbren ot -3|0raeL 

T. MOORE. — Air, Stevenson. 

WEEP, weep for him, the man of God — * 
In yonder vale he sunk to rest ; 
But none of earth can point the sodf 
That flowers above his sacred breast. 
Weep, children of Israel, weep. 

His doctrine fell like heaven's rain, 
His words refresh'd like heaven's dew : 

Oh, ne'er shall Israel see again 
A chief to God and her so true. 

Weep, children of Israel, weep. 

Remember ye his parting gaze, 
His farewell song by Jordan's tide, 

When, full of glory and of days, 

He saw the Promised Land — and died. J 
Weep, children of Israel, weep. 

Yet died he not as men who sink, 
Before our eyes, to soulless clay ; 

But changed to spirit, like a wink 
Of summer lightning, pass'd away. 
Weep, children of Israel, weep. 

* Deut. xxxiv. 8. f Deut. xxxiv. 6. J Deut. xxxiv. 



The Reading Girl. 203 

Clje fteaDina; <BivU 

J. E. Carpenter. — Music by W. Vincent Wallace. 

IN the sunshine, in the daytime, 
Sat a girl beneath the tree, 
In the younger children's playtime, 

With a book upon her knee ; 
On her brow no shade of sadness 

As she bent before the page ; 
In her eye but light and gladness, 

Flush of youth, with calm of age. 
Whence that pure and holy feeling, 

Freed from all of earthly strife, 
O'er her spirit sweetly stealing ? 

There she read the Book of Life. 

Then a Temple seem'd the wild wood, 

And I could not choose but deem 
That sweet form of perfect childhood 

Was an angel's in a dream: 
For I felt a presence near me ; 

In my soul arose this prayer : — 
" Heavenly Father, deign to hear me, 

Make me like 'the reader' there ; 
Give me grace but to inherit 

Thoughts devoid of worldly strife, 
Pure of heart, and meek in spirit, 

Thus to read the Book of Life." 



204 Sacred Songs. 



Mrs Frances S. Osgood. 

THE Father spake ! In grand reverberations 
Through space roll'd on the mighty music-tide, 
While to its low majestic modulations 
The clouds of chaos slowly swept aside. 

The Father spake — a dream, that had been lying 

Hush'd from eternity in silence there, 
Heard the pure melody and low replying, 

Grew to that music in the wondering air. 

Grew to that music — slowly, grandly waking, 
Till, bathed in beauty, it became a world ! 

Led by His voice, its spheric pathway taking, 

While glorious clouds their wings around it furled. 

Nor yet has ceased that sound — His love revealing, 
Though, in response, a universe rolls by ! 

Throughout eternity, its echo pealing — 
World after world awakes in glad reply ! 

And wheresoever, in His rich creation, 

Sweet music breathes — in wave, or bird, or soul — 
'Tis but the faint and far reverberation 

Of that great tune to which the planets roll ! 



The Child and the Dew-Drops. 205 

C&e Cljflti attti tfje 2DrtD*3Drop&. 

J. E. Carpenter. — Music by J. L. Hopkins. 

C\ FATHER, dear father, why pass they away, 

^-^ The dew-drops that sparkled at dawning of day — 
That glitter' d like stars by the light of the moon, 
Oh, why are those dew-drops dissolving so soon ? 
Does the sun, in his wrath, chase their brightness away, 
As though nothing that 's lovely might live for a day ? 
The moonlight has faded — the flowers still remain, 
But the dew has dried out of their petals again. 1 ' 

" My child," said the father, " look up to the skies, 
Behold yon bright rainbow — those beautiful dyes ; 
There — there are the dew-drops in glory reset, 
'Mid the jewels of heaven they are glittering yet. 
Then are we not taught, by each beautiful ray, 
To mourn not earth's fair things though fleeting away? 
For though youth of its brightness and beauty be riven, 
All that withers on earth blooms more brightly in heaven." 

Alas for the father ! — how little knew he 

The words he had spoken prophetic could be ; 

That the beautiful child, — the bright star of his day, — 

Was e'en then like the dew-drops — dissolving away. 

Oh ! sad was the father, when lo, in the skies 

The rainbow again spread its beauteous dyes ; 

And then he remember'd the maxims he'd given, 

And thought of his child and the dew-drops — in heaven. 



200 Sacred Songs. 



HEftming* 

George Withers. 

BEHOLD the sun, that seem'd but now 
Enthroned overhead, 
Beginning to decline below 

The globe whereon we tread. 
And he whom yet we look upon 

With comfort and delight 
Will quite depart from hence anon 
And leave us to the night. 

Thus time, unheeded, steals away 

The life which nature gave ; 
Thus are our bodies every day 

Declining to the grave : 
Thus from us all our pleasures fly 

Whereon we set our heart, 
And then the night of death draws nigh : 

Thus will they all depart. 

Lord ! though the sun forsake our sight, 

And mortal hopes are vain, 
Let still Thine everlasting light 

Within our souls remain ! 
And in the nights of our distress 

Vouchsafe those rays divine 
Which from the Sun of Righteousness 

For ever brightly shine. 



Behold the Sun. 207 



Ctje 3larfe* 

J. E. Carpenter. — Music by Stephen Glover. 

SOARING and singing, bird of the day, 
What does thy full gush of melody say ? 
Is it a matin song singing of love, 
Too pure to be heard save in regions above ? 
" Why do I carol my song to the skies ?" 
Thus to my fancy the song-bird replies : 
" Does not the earth in tranquillity rest, — 
Man on his pillow, the bird on his nest ? 

Should we not sing, then, at morning's first rays, 
A song of thanksgiving, a carol of praise ?" 

Singing and soaring, bird of the day, 

Why from this green earth away and away? 

Ever returning, thy song never done, 

Pluming thy bright wings on high in the sun. 

" Why do I soar ?" So the spirit of love 

Seems to reply from the regions above : 

"Is there not One "who is ever on high, 

Watching below from His throne in the sky ? 

And thus to the skylark perchance it is given, 

To call back thy thoughts from the earth unto heaven ! : 



©eljolD tfie Sum. 

T. Moore. — Air, Lord Momington. 

BEHOLD the Sun, how bright 
From yonder east He springs, 
As if the soul of life and light 
Were breathings from His wings ! 



208 Sacred Songs. 



So bright the gospel broke 

Upon the souls of men ; 
So fresh the dreaming world awoke 

In Truth's full radiance then. 

Before yon Sun arose 

Stars cluster'd through the sky ; 
But oh, how dim, how pale were those 

To His one burning eye ! 

So Truth lent many a ray 

To bless the Pagan's night ; 
But, Lord, how weak, how cold were they 

To Thy one glorious light ! 



%\)z feaWati) of tfje Star* 

Miss Caroline May. 

IT is the sabbath of the year ; . 
And if ye '11 walk abroad, 
A holy sermon ye shall hear, 

Full worthy of record. 
Autumn the preacher is ; and look — 

As other preachers do, 
He takes his text from the one Great Book, 
A text both sad and true. 

With a deep, earnest voice he saith — 

A voice of gentle gnef, 
Fitting the minister of Death — 

" Ye all fade as a leaf ; 
And your iniquities, like the wind, 

Have taken you away ; 
Ye fading flatterers, weak and blind, 

Repent, return, and pray." 



The Sabbath of the Year. 209 

And then the wind ariseth slow, 

And giveth out a psalm ; 
And the organ pipes begin to blow 

Within the forest calm. 
Then all the trees lift up their hands, 

And raise their voices higher, 
And sing the notes of spirit bands 

In full and glorious choir. 

Yes, 'tis the Sabbath of the year ! 

And it doth surely seem, 
(But words of reverence and fear 

Should speak of such a theme,) 
That corn is garner d for the bread, 

And berries for the wine, 
And a sacramental feast is spread, 

Like the Christian's pardon sign. 

And the year, with signs of penitence, 

The holy feast bends o'er ; 
For she must die, and go out hence — 

Die, and be seen no more. 
Then are the choir and organ still, 

The psalm melts in the air ; 
The wind bows down beside the hill, 

And all are hush'd in prayer. 

Then comes the sunset in the west, 

Like a patriarch of old, 
Or like a saint who hath won his rest, 

His robes, and his crown of gold ; 
And forth his arms he stretcheth wide, 

And with solemn tone and clear 
He blesseth, in the eventide, 

The Sabbath of the vear. 



2io Sacred Songs. 



Burial #ttrt)em* 

Dean H. H. Milman. 

BROTHER, thou art gone before us, 
And thy saintly soul is flown, 
Where tears are wiped from every eye, 

And sorrow is unknown. 
From the burden of the flesh, 

And from care and sin released, 
Where the wicked cease from troubling, 
And the weary are at rest. 

The toilsome way thou 'st travell'd o'er, 

And borne the heavy load ; 
But Christ hath taught thy languid feet 

To reach His blest abode ; 
Thou 'rt sleeping now, like Lazarus, 

Upon his Father's breast, 
Where the wicked cease from troubling, 

And the weary are at rest. 

Sin can never taint thee now, 

Nor doubt thy faith assail, 
Nor thy meek trust in Jesus Christ 

And the Holy Spirit fail ; 
And there thou 'rt sure to meet the good, 

Whom on earth thou lovedst best, 
Where the wicked cease from troubling, 

And the weary are at rest. 

" Earth to earth,' ' and " dust to dust," 
The solemn Priest hath said ; 

So we lay the turf above thee now, 
And we seal thy narrow bed : 



Thanks fur a S winner' s Day. 211 

But thy spirit, brother, soars away 

Among the faithful blest, 
Where the wicked cease from troubling, 
And the weary are at rest. 

And when the Lord shall summon us. 

Whom thou hast left behind, 
May we, untainted by the world, 

As sure a welcome find ; 
May each, like thee, depart in peace, 

To be a glorious guest, 

"here the wicked cease f: 

And the weary are at rest. 



C&anfes for a Summer's? 2Dap, 

A. Hume. — Sixteenth Century. 

THE time so tranquil is, and dear, 
That nowhere shall ye find, 
Save on a high and barren hill, 
The air of passing wind. 

All trees and simples, great and small, 

That balmy leaf do bear, 
Than they were painted on a wall, 

No more they move or stir. 

The ample heaven of fabric sure, 

In clearness doth surpass 
The crystal and the silver, pure 

As clearest polish'd glass. 

Bedecked is the sapphire arch 
With streaks of scarlet hue ; 

And preciously from end to end 
Damasked white and blue. 



212 



Sacred Songs. 



Calm is the deep and purple sea, 
Yea, smoother than the sand ; 

The waves, that weltering wont to be, 
Are stable like the land. 

The ships becalm'd upon the seas, 

Hang up their sails to dry ; 
The herds, beneath their leafy trees, 

Amidst the flowers they lie. 

The little busy humming bees, 

That never think to drone, 
On flowers and flourishes of trees 

Collect their liquor brown. 

The dove with whistling wings so blue, 

The winds can fast collect, 
Her purple pens turn many a hue 

Against the sun direct. 

Great is the calm, for everywhere 

The wind is setting down, 
The smoke goes upright in the air, 

From every tower and town. 

What pleasure then to walk and see, 

Along a river clear, 
The perfect form of every tree 

Within the deep appear. 

The bells and circles on the waves, 

From leaping of the trout, 
The salmon from their holes and caves 

Come gliding in and out. 

Oh, sure it were a seemly thing, 

While all is still and calm, 
The praise of God to pray, and sing, 

With trumpet and with shawm. 



The Hope beyond the Grave. 2 1 3 



And can to other say, 
" Thanks to the gracious God of heaven, 
Who sent this summer's day." 



Come nor, £> 3lor&* 

T. Moore.— A ir, Haydn. 

COME not, O Lord, in the dread robe of splendour, 
Thou wor'st on the Mount, in the day of Thine ire: 
Come, veil'd in those shadows, deep, awful, but tender, 
Which mercy flings over Thy features of fire ! 

Lord, Thou rememb'rest the night when Thy nation * 
Stood fronting her foe by the red rolling stream ; 

O'er Egypt Thy pillar shed dark desolation, 
While Israel bask'd all the night in its beam. 

So when the dread clouds of anger unfold Thee, 
From us, in Thy mercy, the dark side remove ; 

While shrouded in terrors the guilty behold Thee, 
Oh, turn upon us the mild light of Thy love ! 



Cfje ^ope iieponti tfje (Brafce* 

J. E. Carpenter. — Music by Stephen Glover. 

THERE'S a hope— 'tis not for splendour, 
For splendour cannot give, 
With all that it can render, 
The hope for which we live ; 

* Exodus xiv. 20. 



214 Sacred Songs. 



Worth all the fame we sigh for, 
All the laurels of the brave, 

Is that which we should die for 
The hope beyond the grave / 



There 's a hope, though few have sought it, 

In this world of thorns and flowers, 
Though a blessed Saviour bought it 

With His own dear life for ours ; 
'Tis the hope of bliss undying, 

That, for us, He died to crave, 
Oh ! may ours, when life is flying, 

Be the hope beyond the grave / 



Caroline Southey. 

LAUNCH thy bark, mariner ! 
Christian, Heaven speed thee ! 
Let loose the rudder bands ! 

Good angels lead thee ! 
Set thy sails warily, 

Tempests will come : 
Steer thy course steadily ! 
Christian, steer home ! 



Breakers are round thee ! 
Let fall the plummet now, 

Shallows may ground thee ! 
Reef in the foresail there ! 

Hold the helm fast ! 
So — let the vessel wear ! 

There — sweep the blast. 



Hope in Sorrow. 2 1 5 



What of the night, watchman ? 

What of the night ? 
" Cloudy — all quiet — 

No land yet— all 's right." 
Be wakeful, be vigilant, 

Danger may be 
At an hour when all seems • 

Securest to thee. 

How — gains the leak so fast ? 

Clear out the hold, 
Hoist up thy merchandise — 

Heave out the gold ! 
There — let the ingots go ! 

Now the ship rights ; 
Hurrah ! the harbour's near, — 

Lo, the red lights. 

Slacken not sail yet 

At inlet or island, 
Straight for the beacon steer — 

Straight for the high land ; 
Crowd all thy canvas on, 

Cut through the foam, 
Christian ! cast anchor now : 

Heaven is thy home ! 



^ope fit ^orrolD* 

Anna Blackwell. 

EYES that have spent their weeping, 
That have lost the power of tears ; 
Hearts that are coldly keeping 
The memories of years ; 



216 Sacred Songs. 



Sleep ! sleep, and through your slumbers 
The watchers, tried and calm, 

Shall breathe, in angel-numbers, 
A sweet and solemn psalm. 



Shall say, "No cloud can gather 
Around His children's path, 

But He, th' all-loving Father, 
His part in their sadness hath. 

Not for His own good pleasure 
Would He have given them life. 

Unless joy's coming measure 
Outweigh'd all present strife. 

" Who gently bears his sorrow, 
And lives it bravely down, 

Shall win a fairer morrow, 
And wear the starry crown." 



<Wbz CfjilD attn tlje fetar& 

J. E. Carpenter. — Music by James Perring. 

" r ~T* H E Y tell me, dear father, each gem in the sky 

J- That sparkles at night is a star, 
But why do they dwell in those regions so high, 

And shed their cold lustre so far ? 
I know that the sun makes the blossoms to spring, 

That it gives to the flow'rets their birth, 
But what are the stars ? do they nothing but fling 

Their cold rays of light upon earth ?" 






The Use of the Flowers. 2 1 7 

" My child, it is said that yon stars in the sky 

Are worlds that are fashion' d like this, 
Where the souls of the good and the gentle who die, 

Assemble together in bliss ; 
And the ray that they shed o'er the earth is the light 

Of His glory whose throne is above, 
That tells us, who dwell in these regions of night, 

How great is His goodness and love." 

" Then, father, why still press your hand to your brow, 

Why still are your cheeks pale with care ? 
If all that was gentle be dwelling there now, 

Dear mother, I know, must be there." 
" Thou chidest me well," said the father, with pain, 

" Thy wisdom is greater by far ; 
We may mourn for the lost, but we should not complain; 

While we gaze on each beautiful star." 



C&e ©0e of tlje flotoer0< 

Mrs Mary Howitt. 

GOD might have bade this earth bring forth 
Enough for great and small, 
The oak tree and the cedar tree, 

Without a flower at all. 
He might have made enough, — enough 

For every want of ours, — 
For luxury, medicine, and toil, 
And yet have made no flowers. 

The ore within the mountain mine 

Requireth none to grow, 
Nor doth it need the lotus flower 

To make the river flow 



2 1 8 Sacred Songs. 



The clouds might give abundant rain, 

The nightly dews might fall, 
The herb that keepeth life in man 

Might yet have drunk them all. 

Then wherefore, wherefore were they made, 

All dyed with rainbow light, 
All fashion'd with supremest grace, 

Upspringing day and night ; 
Springing in valleys green and low, 

And on the mountains high, 
And in the silent wilderness, 

Where no man passeth by ? 

Our outward life requires them not, 

Then wherefore had they birth ? — 
To minister delight to man, 

To beautify the earth ; 
To whisper hope — to comfort man 

Whene'er his faith is dim ; 
For whoso careth for the flowers 

Will care much more for him ! 



C&e SDfal of jFlotoer& 

Mrs Hemans. 

'HTWAS a lovely thought to mark the hours, 

J- As they floated in light away, 
By the opening and the folding flowers 
That laugh to the summer's day. 

Thus had each moment its own rich hue, 

And its graceful cup and bell, 
In whose colour'd vase might sleep the dew,' 

Like a pearl in an ocean shell. 



The Law of Love. 2 1 9 



To such sweet signs might the time have flow'd 

In a golden current on, 
Ere from the garden, man's first abode, 

The glorious guests were gone. 

So might the days have been brightly told — 
Those days of song and dreams — 

When shepherds gather'd their flocks of old 
By the blue Arcadian streams. 

So in those isles of delight, that rest 

Far off in a breezeless main, 
Which many a bark, with a weary quest, 

Has sought, but still in vain. 

Yet is not life, in its real flight, 

Mark'd thus, — even thus, — on earth, 

By the closing of one hope's delight, 
And another's gentle birth ? 

Oh ! let us live, so that flower by flower, 

Shutting in turn, may leave 
A lingerer still for the sunset hour, 

A charm for the shaded eve. 



%\z iato of Hotie. 

2 Kings iv. 1-6. 

Archbishop Trench. 

POUR forth the oil, pour boldly forth, 
It will not fail until 
Thou failest vessels to provide, 
Which it may largely fill. 



220 Sacred Songs. 



But then, when such are found no more, 
Though flowing broad and free, 

Till then, and nourish'd from on high, 
It straightway stanch'd will be. 

Dig channels for the streams of love, 
Where they may broadly run ; 

And love has overflowing streams 
To fill them every one. 

But if at any time thou cease 

Such channels to provide, 
The very founts of love for thee 

Will soon be parch'd and dried. 

For we must share, if we would keep, 
That good thing from above ; 

Ceasing to give, we cease to have — 
Such is the law of love. 



Bnrtttgt anti J&z&t. 

Bishop Reginald Heber.— Music by S. Glover. 

T) RIGHTEST and best of the sons of the morning 
-L' Dawn on our darkness, and lend us Thine aid 
Star of the East, the horizon adorning, 
Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid ! 

Cold on His cradle the dew-drops are shining ; 

Low lies His head with the beasts of the stall; 
Angels adore Him, in slumber reclining, 

Maker and Monarch and Saviour of all. 



Lazarus. 221 



Say, shall we yield Him, in costly devotion, 
Odours of Edom and offerings divine ? 

Gems of the mountain, and pearls of the ocean, 
Myrrh from the forest, or gold from the mine ? 

Vainly we offer each ample oblation ; 

Vainly with gifts would His favour secure ; 
Richer by far is the heart's adoration ; 

Dearer to God are the prayers of the poos. 

Brightest and best of the sons of the morning, 
Dawn on our darkness, and lend us Thine aid ! 

Star of the East, the horizon adorning, 
Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid ! 



Ha$aru& 

A. Tennyson. 

WHEN Lazarus left his charnel cave, ■ 
And home to Mary's house return'd, 
Was this demanded — if he yearn'd 
To hear her weeping by his grave ? 

Where wert thou, brother, those four days ? 

There lives no record of reply, 

Which telling what it is to die 
Had surely added praise to praise. 

From every house the neighbours met, 
The streets were fill'd with joyful sound, 
A solemn gladness even crown'd 

The purple brows of Olivet. 



222 Sacred Songs. 



Behold a man raised up by Christ ! 

The rest remaineth unreveal'd ; 

He told it not; or something seal'd 
The lips of that Evangelist. 



Rev. John S. B. Monsell, D.D. 

THE spring-tide hour 
Brings leaf and flower, 
With songs of life and love ; 

And many a lay 

Wears out the day 
In many a leafy grove. 

Bird, flower, and tree 

Seem to agree 
Their choicest gifts to bring ; 

But this poor heart 

Bears not its part, 
In it there is no spring. 

Dews fall apace, 

The dews of grace, 
Upon this soul of sin, 

And love Divine 

Delights to shine 
Upon the waste within : 

Yet, year by year, 

Fruits, flowers appear, 
And birds their praises sing ; 

But this poor heart 

Bears not its part, 
Its winter has no spring. 



Hymn of the Moravian Nuns of Bethlehem. 223 

Lord, let Thy love, 

Fresh from above. 
Soft as the south wind blow ; 

Call forth its bloom, 

Wake its perfume, 
And bid its spices flow ! 

And when Thy voice 

Makes earth rejoice, 
And the hills laugh and sing, 

Lord ! make this heart 

To bear its part, 
And join the praise of spring ! 



livmn of tfje 9£orat)fati ^un£ of Betljleljnn 

AT THE CONSECRATION OF PULASKI'S BANNER. 

H. W. Longfellow. — Music by Miss M. Lindsay. 

WHEN the dying flame of day 
Through the chancel shot its ray, 
Far the glimmering tapers shed 
Faint light on the cowled head ; 
And the censer burning swung, 
Where, before the altar, hung 
The blood-red banner, that with prayer 
Had been consecrated there. 

And the nun's sweet hymn was heard the while, 
Sung low in the dim, mysterious isle. 

"Take thy banner ! May it wave 
Proudly o'er the good and brave ; 
When the battle's distant wail 
Breaks the Sabbath of our vale, 



224 Sacred Songs. 



When the clarion's music thrills 
To the hearts of these lone hills, 
When the spear in conflict shakes, 
And the strong lance shivering breaks. 

" Take thy banner ! and, beneath 
The battle-cloud's encircling wreath, 
Guard it !— till our homes are free ! 
Guard it ! — God will prosper thee ! 
In the dark and trying hour, 
In the breaking forth of power, 
In the rush of steeds and men, 
His right hand will shield thee then. 

" Take thy banner ! But, when night 
Closes round the ghastly fight, 
If the vanquish'd warrior bow, 
Spare him ! — By our holy vow, f 

By our prayers and many tears, 
By the mercy that endears, 
Spare him ! — he our love hath shared ! 
Spare him ! — as thou wouldst be spared ! 

" Take thy banner ! — and if e'er 
Thou shouldst press the soldier's bier, 
And the muffled drum should beat 
To the tread of mournful feet, 
Then this crimson flag shall be 
Martial cloak and shroud for thee." 

The warrior took that banner proud, 
And it was his martial cloak and shroud ! 



The Destruction of the A ssyrians. 2 2 ; 

W$z SDegitntctfon of tfje ja0ggrian&. 

Lord Byron. — Music by J. Nathan; also by S. Glover. 

THE Assyrian came' down like the wolf on the fold, 
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold, 
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, 
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. 

Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, 
That host with their banners at sunset were seen ; 
Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown, 
That host on the morrow lay wither'd and strown. 

For the angel of death spread his wings on the blast, 
And breathed on the face of the foe as he passed ; 
And the eyes of the sleeper wax'd deadly and chill, 
And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still. 

And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, 
But through it there roll'd not the breath of his pride ; 
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, 
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. 

And there lay the rider distorted and pale, 
With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail ; 
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, 
The lances unlifted, the trumpets unblown. 

And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, 
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal ; 
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword, 
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord. 



226 Sacred Songs. 



<v 



Mrs Maria Brooks. 

SIRE of the universe ! — and me — 
Dost Thou reject my midnight prayer? 
Dost Thou withhold me even from Thee, 

Thus writhing, struggling 'gainst despair ? . 
Thou know'st the source of feeling's gush, 

Thou know'st the end for which it flows : 
Then, if Thou bidd'st the tempest rush, 
Ah, heed the fragile bark it throws ! 

Fain would my heaving heart be still, 

But pain and tumult mock at rest ; 
Fain would I meekly meet Thy will, 

And kiss the barb that tears my breast. 
Weak I am form'd, I can no more, — 

Weary I strive, but find not aid ; 
Prone on Thy threshold I deplore, 

But, oh, Thy succour is delay'd ! 

The burning, beauteous orb of day, 

Amid its circling host upborne, 
Smiles as life quickens in its ray : 

What would it were Thy hand withdrawn ? 
Scorch, devastate the teeming whole, 

Now glowing with its warmth divine ! 
Spirit, whose powers of peace control 

Great Nature's heart, oh, pity mine ! 



The Moon upon the Spire. 227 



WLnvzgt. 

Mrs Emma C. Embury. 

HEART, weary heart ! what means thy wild unrest ? 
Hast thou not tasted of earth's every pleasure ? 
With all that mortals seek thy lot is blest ; 

Yet dost thou ever chant in mournful measure — 
" Something beyond ! " 

Heart, weary heart ! canst thou not find repose 
In the sweet calm of friendship's pure devotion? 

Amid the peace which sympathy bestows, 

Still dost thou murmur, with repress'd .emotion, — 
" Something beyond !" 

Heart, weary heart ! too idly hast thou pour'd 
Thy music and thy perfume on the blast ! 

Now, beggar'd in affection's treasured hoard, 
Thy cry is still — thy saddest and thy last — 

" Something beyond !" 

Heart, weary heart ! oh, cease thy wild unrest ! 

Earth cannot satisfy thy bitter yearning, — 
Then onward, upward speed thy lonely guest, 

And hope to find, where Heaven's pure stars are burning 
" Something beyond !" 



%\z 9£oon upon tlje &pfre* 

Hannah F. Gould. 

THE full-orb'd moon has reach'd no higher 
Than yon old church's mossy spire, 
And seems, as gliding up the air, 
She saw the fane ; and, pausing there, 



228 Sacred Songs. 



Would worship, in the tranquil night, 
The Prince of Peace — the Source of Light, 
Where man for God prepared the place, 
And God to man unveils His face. 

Her tribute all around is seen ; 
She bends, and worships like a queen ! 
Her robe of light and beaming crown 
In silence she is casting down ; 
And, as a creature of the earth, 
She feels her lowliness of birth — 
Her weakness and inconstancy 
Before unchanging purity. 

Pale traveller, on thy lonely way 
'Tis well thy homage thus to pay ; 
To reverence that ancient pile, 
And spread thy silver o'er the aisle 
Which many a pious foot has trod 
That now is dust beneath the sod ; 
Where many a sacred tear was wept 
From eyes that long in death have slept ! 

The temple's builders — where are they ? 

The worshippers ? all pass'd away, 

Who came the first, to offer there 

The song of praise, the heart of prayer ! 

Man's generation passes soon ; 

It wanes and changes like the moon. 

He raises up the lowering wall, 



And does he sink to rise no more ? 
Has he no part to triumph o'er 



The Christian's Progress. 229 



The pallid king ? no spark to save 
From darkness, ashes, and the grave ? 
Thou, holy place, the answer, wrought 
In thy firm structure, bars the thought ! 
The Spirit that establish'd thee 
Nor death nor darkness e'er shall see .' 



%%i C&rfatfan'g ^rogcegg. 

H. Kirke White. 

THROUGH sorrow's path, and danger's road, 
Amid the deepening gloom, 
We, soldiers of an injured King, 
Are marching to the tomb. 

There, when the turmoil is no more, 

And all our powers decay, 
Our cold remains in solitude 

Shall sleep the years away. 

Our labours done, securely laid 

In this our last retreat, 
Unheeded, o'er our silent dust 

The storms of life shall beat. 

Yet not thus lifeless, thus inane, 

The vital spark shall lie, 
For o'er life's wreck that spark shall rise 

To see its kindred sky. 



230 Sacred Songs. 

These ashes, too, this little dust, 
Our Father's care shall keep, 

Till the last angel rise, and break 
The long and dreary sleep. 

There love's soft dew o'er every eye 
Shall shed its mildest rays, 

And the long-silent dust shall burst 
With shouts of endless praise. 




Part g>econ&. 



DEVOTIONAL SONGS 



DEVOTIONAL SONGS. 



'&$! Creator. 

Psalm xix. 

Joseph Addison. — Air, P ley el. 

THE spacious firmament on high, 
With all the blue ethereal sky, 
And spangled heavens, a shining frame, 
Their great Original proclaim. 
Th' unwearied sun, from day to day ? 
Does his Creator's power display, 
And publishes to every land 
The work of an almighty hand. 

Soon as the evening shades prevail 
The moon takes up the wondrous tale, 
And nightly to the listening earth 
Repeats the story of her birth ; 
Whilst all the stars that round her burn, 
And all the planets in their turn, 
Confirm the tidings as they roll, 
And spread the truth from pole to pole. 

What though in solemn silence all 
Move round the dark terrestrial ball ; 
What though no real voice or sound 
Amidst their radiant orbs be found ; 



234 Devotional Songs. 

In reason's ear they all rejoice, 
And utter forth a glorious voice, 
For ever singing as they shine — 
" The hand that made us is divine ! " 



Hon. and Rev. Baptist Wriothesley Noel. 

THERE'S not a bird, with lonely nest 
In pathless wood or mountain crest, 
Nor meaner thing, which does not share, 
O God ! in Thy paternal care ! 

There 's not a being now accurst, 
Who did not taste Thy goodness first ; 
And every joy the wicked see 
Received its origin from Thee. 

Each barren crag, each desert rude, 
Holds Thee within its solitude ; 
And Thou dost bless the wanderer there. 
Who makes his solitary prayer. 

In busy mart and crowded street, 
No less than in the still retreat, 
Thou, Lord, art near, our souls to bless 
With all a parent's tenderness ! 

And every moment still doth bring 
Thy blessings on its loaded wing ; 
Widely they spread through earth and sky, 
And last to all eternity ! 



Te Deum Laudamus. 235 

Through all creation let Thy Name 
Be echo'd with a glad acclaim ! 
That let the grateful churches sing ; 
With that let heaven for ever ring ; 

And we, where'er our lot is cast, 
While life, and thought, and feeling last, 
Through all our years, in every place, 
Will bless Thee for Thv boundless grace ! 



Ce SDetmt £autiamu3 + 

Thomas Cotterill. 

THEE Ave adore, eternal Lord ! 
We praise Thy Name with one accord 
Thy Saints, who here Thy goodness see, 
Through ah the world do worship Thee. 

To Thee aloud all Angels cry, 

And ceaseless raise their songs on high, 

Both Cherubin and Seraphin, 

The heavens and all the powers therein. 

The Apostles join the glorious throng ; 
The Prophets swell the immortal song ; 
The Martyrs' noble army raise 
Eternal anthems to Thy praise. 

Thee, holy, holy, holy King ! 
Thee, the Lord God of hosts, they sing : 
Thus earth below, and heaven above, 
Resound Thy glory and Thy love. 



236 Devotional Songs. 



Coil and 1&z$u 

John Chandler. 

THOU, great Creator, art possest, 
And Thou alone, of endless rest 
To angels only it belongs 
To lift to Thee their ceaseless songs. 

But we must toil and toil again 
With ceaseless woe and endless pain ; 
How then can we, in exile drear, 
Lift the glad song of glory here ? 

O Thou, who wilt forgiving be 
To all who truly turn to Thee, 
Grant us to mourn the heavy cause 
Of all our woe — Thy broken laws! 

Then to such salutary grief 
Let Faith and Hope bring due relief; 
And we, too, soon shall be possest 
Of ceaseless songs and endless rest. 



$vai$z> 0% }9tat0e our (Eoti and T&in$\ 

Rev. Sir Henry Baker. 

PRAISE, oh, praise our God and King ! 
Hymns of adoration sing ; 
For His mercies still endure, 
Ever faithful, ever sure. 



Praise, oh, Praise our God and King. 237 

Praise Him that He made the Sun 
Day by day his course to run ; 

For His mercies still endure 

Ever faithful, ever sure : 

And the silver Moon by night, 
Shining with her gentle light ; 

For His mercies still endure 

Ever faithful, ever sure. 

Praise Him that He gave the rain 
To mature the swelling grain ; 

-For His mercies still endure 

Ever faithful, ever sure : 

And hath bid the fruitful field 
Crops of precious increase yield ; 

For His mercies still endure 

Ever faithful, ever sure. 

Praise Him for our Harvest-store, 
He hath fill'd the Garner-floor; 

For His mercies still endure 

Ever faithful, ever sure : 

And for richer Food than this, 
Pledge of everlasting bliss ; 

For His mercies still endure 

Ever faithful, ever sure. 

Glory to our bounteous King ! 
Glory let Creation sing ! 

Glory to the Father, Son, 

And blest Spirit, Three in One ! 



238 Devotional Songs, 



Clje Beginning; anti ttje (Enfcu 

John Hunt. 

LET all the world rejoice, 
The great Jehovah reigns ; 
The thunders are His awful voice ; 
Our life His will ordains ; 
The glories of His Name 
The lightnings, floods, and hail proclaim. 

He rules by sea and land, 

O'er boundless realms He sways ; 
He holds the oceans in His hand, 

And mighty mountains weighs : 

Unequall'd and alone, 
In majesty He fills His throne. 

The universe He made 

By His prevailing might ; 
The earth's foundations He hath laid, 

And scatter'd ancient night ; 

When heaven, and earth, and sea, 
Proclaim'd' His awful majesty. 

When the bright orb of day 

First gleam' d with ruddy light, 
And yonder moon, with silver ray, 

March'd up the vault of night ; 

And stars bedeck'd the skies, 
That seem'd creation's thousand eyes ; 

And earth's fair form was seen, 
With flowers and blossoms drest ; 
And trees, and fields, and meadows green, 
Adorn'd her youthful breast, 



The Beginning and the End. 239 

Hung out in boundless space, 
Amid the ocean's cool embrace ; 

Glad was the angel throng 

To see His might prevail ; 
And loud they sung a joyful song, 

This universal hail ; 

While yet in youth it stood, 
The Maker, too, pronounced it good. 

But this fair world shall die, 

The creature of a day, 
In ashes and in ruins lie, 

Its glory pass'd away ; 

As when before her birth, 
Again shall be this mighty earth. 

Soon shall the day be o'er 

Of yonder brilliant sun ; 
And he shall set to rise no more, 

His race of glory run ; 

And soon, alas ! all soon 
Shall fade the stars and yon pale moon. 

But ever fix'd, the throne 

Of the Eternal One 
Shall stand, when all creation's gone, 

Unequall'd and alone ; 

New worlds to make at will, 
And His own wise designs fulfil. 



240 Devotional So?tgs, 



Ut)e Spring; of JLifz. 

Simon Browne. 

ETERNAL God, of beings first, 
Of all created good the Spring, 
For Thee I long, for Thee I thirst, 

My Love, my Saviour, and my King ! 
Thine is a never failing store ; 
If God be mine, I ask no more. 

The fairest world of light on high 
Reflection makes but faint of Thine ; 

The glorious servants of the sky 

In God's own beams transported shine ! 

But, shouldst Thou wrap Thy face in shade, 

Soon all their life and lustre fade. 

Thy Presence makes celestial day, 

And fills each raptured soul with bliss ; 

Night would prevail, were God away, 
And spirits pine in Paradise ! 

In vain would all the angels try 

To fill Thy room, Thy lack supply. 

And, sure, from heaven we turn our eyes 
In vain, to seek for bliss below ; 

The tree of life can't root nor rise, 
Nor in this blasted region grow : 

The wealth of this poor barren clod 

Can ne'er make up the want of God. 

But, Lord ! in Thee the thirsty soul 
Will meet with full, with rich supplies ! 

Thy smiles will all her fears control, 
Thy beauties feast her ravish' d eyes : 

To failing flesh and fainting hearts 

Thy favour life and strength imparts ! 



Praise the L ord of Heaven. 24 1 

Praise tf)t Hort* of ^eafoem 

T. B. Browne. 

PRAISE the Lord of heaven, 
Praise Him in the height, 
Praise Him, all ye angels, 

Praise Him, stars and light! 
Praise Him, skies and waters, 

Which above the skies, 
When His word commanded, 
Did, established, rise ! 

Praise the Lord, ye fountains 

Of the deeps and seas, 
Rocks and hills and mountains, 

Cedars and all trees ! 
Praise Him, clouds and vapours, 

Snow, and hail, and fire, 
Stormy wind, fulfilling 

Only His desire ! 

Praise Him, fowls and cattle, 

Princes and all kings ! 
Praise Him, men and maidens, 

All created things ; 
For the name of God 

Is excellent alone ; 
Over earth His footstool, 

Over heaven His throne ! 



242 Devotional Songs. 



9£p (Botr anti Iking* 

George Herbert. 

LET all the world in every corner sing 
My God and King ! 
The heavens are not too high ; 
His praise may thither fly: 
The earth is not too low ; 
His praises there may grow. 

Let all the world in every corner sing 
My God and King! 
The Church with psalms must shout ; 
No door can keep them out: 
But, above all, the heart 
Must bear the longest part. 

Let all the world in every corner sing 
My God and King! 



Before geSofmt)^ atDful lljrone* 

Dr Watts. — Air, Madan. 

BEFORE Jehovah's awful throne, 
Ye nations, bow with sacred joy; 
Know that the Lord is God alone ; 
He can create, and He destroy. 

His sovereign power, without our aid, 
Made us of clay, and form'd us men ; 

And when, like wandering sheep, we stray'd, 
He brought us to His fold again. 



Sovereign Ruler. 243 



We are His people, we His care, 
Our souls and all our mortal frame ; 

What lasting honours shall we rear, 
Almighty Maker, to Thy name ? 

We '11 crowd Thy gates with thankful songs, 
High as the heavens our voices raise; 

And earth, with her ten thousand tongues, 
Shall fill Thy courts with sounding praise. 

Wide as the world is Thy command, 

Vast as eternity Thy love ! 
Firm as a rock Thy truth must stand, 

When rolling vears shall cease to move. 



s 



John Rylaxd. 

OVEREIGN Ruler of the skies. 
Ever gracious, ever wise, 



All my times are in Thy hand, 
All events at Thy command. 

His decree, who form'd the earth, 
Fix'd my first and second birth ; 
Parents, native place, and time, 
All appointed were by Him. 

He that form'd me in the womb, 
He shall guide me to the tomb ; 
All my times shall ever be 
Order'd bv His wise decree: 



244 Devotional Songs. 

Times of sickness, times of health, 
Times of penury and wealth ; 
Times of trial and of grief, 
Times of triumph and relief; 

Times the Tempter's power to prove, 
Times to taste a Saviour's love ; 
All must come, and last, and end, 
As shall please my heavenly Friend. 

Plagues and deaths around me fly ; 
Till He bids, I cannot die : 
Not a single shaft can hit 
Till the Gocf of love sees fit. 

Thou Gracious, Wise, and Just! 
In Thy hands my life I trust : 
Have I something dearer still? 

1 resign it to Thy will. 

May I always own Thy hand; 
Still to the surrender stand ; 
Know, that Thou art God alone ; 
I and mine are all Thy own. 

Thee at all times will I bless ; 
Having Thee, I all possess ; 
How can I bereaved be, 
Since I cannot part with Thee ? 



Psalm cxlviii. 245 



pgalm cjrifmi* 

George Wither. 

COME, oh come, with sacked lays ! 
Let us sound th' Almighty's praise 
Hither, bring in true consent, 
Heart, and voice, and instrument. 
Let the orpharion sweet 
With the harp and viol meet : 
To your voices tune the lute : 
Let not tongue nor string be mute : 
Nor a creature dumb be found, 
That hath either voice or sound. 

Let such things as do not live, 
In still music praises give ; 
Lowly pipe, ye worms that creep 
On the earth, or in the deep ; 
Loud aloft your voices strain, 
Beasts and monsters of the main ; 
Birds, your warbling treble sing ; 
Clouds, your peals of thunder ring ; 
Sun and moon exalted higher, 
And you stars augment the quire. 

Come, ye sons of human race, 
In this chorus take your place, 
And amid this mortal throng, 
Be ye masters of the song. 
Angels and celestial powers, 
Be the noblest tenor yours. 
Let, in praise of God, the sound 
Run a never-ending round, 
That our holy hymn may be 
Everlasting, as is He. 



246 Devotional Songs, 



From the earth's vast hollow womb 
Music's deepest bass shall come, 
Sea and floods from shore to shore 
Shall the counter-tenor roar. 
To this concert, when we sing, 
Whistling- winds, your descant bring : 
Which may bear the sound above 
Where the orb of fire doth move ; 
And so climb from sphere to sphere, 
Till our song th' Almighty hear. 

So shall He from heaven's high tower 

On the earth His blessing shower ; 

All this huge wide orb we see 

Shall one choir, one temple be ; 

There our voices we will rear 

Till we fill it everywhere : 

And enforce the fiends that dwell 

In the air, to sink to hell. 

Then, oh come, with sacred lays ! 

Let us sound th' Almighty's praise. 



#titinxt =Ujmiu 

Phillip Doddridge. 

HARK the glad sound ! the Saviour comes, 
The Saviour promised long : 
Let every heart prepare a throne, 
And every voice a song. 

He comes, the prisoners to release 

In Satan's bondage held ; 
The gates of brass before Him burst, 

The iron fetters yield. 



Christmas Day. 247 



He comes, from thickest films of vice 

To clear the mental ray, 
And on the eyeballs of the blind 

To pour celestial day. 

He comes, the broken hearts to bind, 
The bleeding souls to cure, 

And with the treasures of His grace 
To bless the humble poor. 

Oar glad hosannahs, Prince of Peace, 
Thine advent shall proclaim ; 

And heaven's eternal arches ring 
With Thy beloved Name. 



Cljrfgtmeig 2Dap* 

Samuel Richards. 

nTHOUGH rude winds usher thee, sweet day, 
-*- Though clouds thy face deform, 
Though nature's grace is swept away 

Before thy sleety storm ; 
E'en in thy sombrest wintry vest, 
Of blessed days thou art most blest. 

Nor frigid air nor gloomy morn 

Shall check our jubilee ; 
Bright is the day when Christ was born, 

No sun need shine but He: 
Let roughest storms their coldest blow 
With love of Him our hearts shall sclow. 



248 Devotional Songs. 

Inspired with high and holy thought, 

Fancy is on the wing ; 
It seems as to mine ear it brought 

Those voices carolling, — 
Voices through heaven and earth that ran, 
Glory to God, goodwill to man ! 

I see the shepherds gazing wild 

At those fair sprites of light ; 
I see them bending o'er the child 

With that untold delight 
Which marks the face of those who view 
Things but too happy to be true. 

There, in the lowly manger laid, 

Incarnate God they see ; 
He stoops to take, through spotless maid, 

Our frail humanity. 
Son of high God, creation's Heir 
He leaves His heaven to raise us there ! 

Through Him, Lord, we are born anew, 

Thy children once again ; 
Oh, day by day our hearts renew, 

That Thine we may remain, 
And, angel-like, may all agree, 
One sweet and holy family. 

Oft as this joyous morn doth come 

To speak our Saviour's love, 
Oh, may it bear our spirits home, 

Where He now reigns above; 
That day which brought Him from the skies, 
. And man restores to Paradise ! 



Christ the Lord is Bom To-day. 249 



Then let winds usher thee, sweet day, 
Let clouds thy face deform 

Though nature's grace is swept away 
Before thy sleety storm ; 

E'en in thy sombrest wintry vest, 

Of blessed days thou art most blest. 



Cfjrfgt tfje HocD ig 25orn Co-Ha^ 

Rev. Charles Wesley. 

HARK ! how all the welkin rings 
Glory to the King of kings ! 
Peace on earth, and mercy mild, 
God and sinners reconciled ! 
Joyful, all ye nations, rise, 
Join the triumph of the skies ; 
Universal nature say, 
Christ the Lord is born to-day ! 

Christ, by highest Heaven adored; 
Christ, the Everlasting Lord : 
Late in time behold Him come, 
Offspring of a Virgin's womb : 
Veil'd in flesh the Godhead see ; 
Hail, th' Incarnate Deity, 
Pleased as man with men to appear, 
Jesus, our Immanuel here ! 

Hail ! the heavenly Prince of Peace ! 
Hail ! the Sun of Righteousness ! 
Light and life to all He brings, 
Risen with healing in His wings. 



250 Devotional Songs. 



Mild He lays His glory by, 
Born that man no more may die ; 
Born to raise the sons of earth, 
Born to give them second birth. 

Come, Desire of nations, come, 

Fix in us Thy humble home ! 

Rise, the Woman's conquering Seed, 

Bruise in us the Serpent's head ! 

Now display Thy saving power, 

Ruin'd nature now restore, 

Now in mystic union join 

Thine to ours, and ours to Thine ! 

Adam's likeness, Lord, efface ; 
Stamp Thy image in its place ; 
Second Adam from' above, 
Reinstate us in Thy love ! 
Let us Thee, though lost, regain, 
Thee, the Life, the Heavenly Man : 
Oh, to all Thyself impart, 
Form'd in each believing; heart ! 



C&e prince of peace. 

John Morrison. 

THE race that long in darkness pined 
Have seen a glorious Light ; 
The people dwell in Day, who dwelt 
In Death's surrounding night. 



Hymn on the Nativity. 25 1 



To hail Thy rise, Thou better Sun, 
The gathering nations come, 

Joyous as when the reapers bear 
The harvest-treasures home. 

For Thou our burden hast removed, 
And quell'd th' oppressor's sway, 

Quick as the slaughter'd squadrons fell 
In Midian's evil day. 

To us a Child of Hope is born, 

To us a Son is given ; 
Him shall the tribes of earth obey, 

Him all the hosts of heaven. 

His Name shall be the Prince of Peace, 

For evermore adored, 
The Wonderful, the Counsellor, 

The great and mighty Lord. 

His power increasing still shall spread, 
His reign no end shall know : 

Justice shall guard His throne above, 
And Peace abound below. 



%mti on tfje j&atibft;* 

Ben Jonson. 

I SING the birth was born to-night, 
The Author both of life and light ; 
The angels so did sound it. 
And like the ravish'd shepherds said 
Who saw the light, and were afraid, 

Yet search'd, and true they found it. 



252 Devotional Songs. 



The Son of God, th' Eternal King, 
That did us all salvation bring, 

And freed the soul from danger ; 
He whom the whole world could not take, 
The Word which heaven and earth did make, 

Was now laid in a manger. 

The Father's wisdom will'd it so, 
The Son's obedience knew no No, 

Both wills were in one stature : 
And as that wisdom had decreed, 
The Word was now made flesh indeed, 

And took on Him our nature. 

What comfort by Him do we win, 
Who made Himself the price of sin, 

To make us heirs of glory ! 
To see this babe all innocence, 
A martyr born in our defence : 

Can man forget this story ? 



Nahum Tate. 

WHILE shepherds watch'd their flocks by night, 
All seated on the ground, 
The angel of the Lord came down, 
And glory shone around. 

" Fear not," said he ; for mighty dread 

Had seized their troubled mind ; 
" Glad tidings of great joy I bring 

To you and all mankind. 



The Star of Bethlehem. 253 

" To you in David's town this day- 
Is born of David's line, 
A Saviour, who is Christ the Lord ; 
And this shall be the sign : 

" The heavenly Babe you there shall find 
To human view display'd, 
All meanly wrapp'd in swathing bands, 
And in a manger laid." 

Thus spake the seraph ; and forthwith 

Appear'd a shining throng 
Of angels praising God, who thus 

Address'd their joyful song : 

" All glory be to God on high, 
And in the earth be peace ; 
Good-will henceforth from Heaven to men 
Begin and never cease ! " Amen. 



%ty »>tar of Betfjlefjem, 

H. Kirke White.— Music by T. Pier day. 

WHEN, marshall'd on the nightly plain, 
The glittering hosts bestud the sky ; 
One star alone of all the train 

Can fix the sinner's wandering eye. 

Hark! hark ! to God the chorus breaks 
From every host, from every gem ; 

But one alone the Saviour speaks, 
It is the star of Bethlehem. 



254 Devotional Songs. 

Once on the raging seas I rode, 

The storm was loud, the night was dark, 

The ocean yawn'd — and rudely blow'd, 
The wind that toss'd my foundering bark 

Deep horror then my vitals froze, 

Death-struck, I ceased the tide to stem, 

When suddenly a star arose, 
It was the star of Bethlehem. 

It was my guide, my light, my all ; 

It bade my dark forebodings cease ; 
And through the storm, and danger's thrall, 

It led me to the port of peace. 

Now safely moor'd, my perils o'er, 
I '11 sing first in night's diadem, 

For ever and for evermore, 
The star ! the star of Bethlehem ! 



lati to tfie Horti'0 #nofnteti ! 

James Montgomery. 

HAIL to the Lord's Anointed ! 
Great David's greater Son ! 
Hail, in the time appointed, 
His reign on earth begun ! 
He comes to break oppression, 

To set the captive free ; 
To take away transgression, 
And rule in equity. 



Hail to the Lord 's A noinica ! 255 

He comes with succour speedy 

To those who suffer wrong ; 
To help the poor and needy, 

And bid the weak be strong ; 
To give them songs for sighing, 

Their darkness turn to light ; 
Whose souls, condemn'd and dying, 

Were precious in His sight. 

He shall come down like showers 

Upon the fruitful earth, 
And joy and hope, like flowers. 

Spring in His path to birth. 
Before Him, on the mountains, 

Shall Peace, the herald, go ; 
And Righteousness, in fountains, 

From hill and valley flow. 

Arabia's desert-ranger 

To Him shall bow the knee ; 
The Ethiopian stranger 

His glory come to see ; 
With offerings of devotion 

Ships from the isles shall meet, 
To pour the wealth of ocean 

In tribute at His feet. 

Kings shall fall down before Him, 

And gold and incense bring ; 
All nations shall adore Him, 

His praise all people sing. 
For He shall have dominion 

O'er river, sea, and shore, 
Far as the eagle's pinion, 

Or dove's light wing, can soar. 



256 Devotional Songs 



For Him shall prayer unceasing, 

And daily vows, ascend ; 
His kingdom still increasing, 

A kingdom without end : 
The mountain dews shall nourish 

A seed, in weakness sown, 
Whose fruit shall spread and flourish. 

And shake like Lebanon. 

O'er every foe victorious, 

He on His throne shall rest, 
From age to age more glorious, 

All-blessing and all-blest. 
The tide of time shall never 

His covenant remove ; 
His Name shall stand for ever ; 

That Name to us is Love. 



Dr Cotton. 

LORD of my life, inspire my song ! 
To Thee my noblest powers belong 
Grant me Thy favourite seraph's flame, 
To sing the glories of Thy name. 

My birth, my fortune, friends, and health, 
My knowledge too, superior wealth, 
Lord of my life ! to Thee I owe; 
Teach me to practise what I know. 

Ten thousand favours claim my song, 
And each demands an angel's tongue; 
Mercy sits smiling on the wings 
Of every moment as it springs. 



The Old and New Year. 257 

But, oh ! with infinite surprise, 

I see returning years arise ; 

When unimproved the former score, 

Lord, wilt Thou trust me still with more ! 

Thousands this period hoped to see ; 
Denied to thousands — granted me ; 
Thousands that weep, and wish, and pray 
For those rich hours I throw away. 

The tribute of my heart receive, 
'Tis the poor all I have to give ; 
Should it prove faithless, Lord, I 'd wrest 
The bleeding traitor from my breast. 



%\z flDUi attti $eto gear. 

Arthur Tozer Russell. 

ANOTHER year hath fled; renew, 
Lord, with our days Thy love ! 
Our days are evil here and few ; 

We look to live above : 
We will not grieve, though day by day 
We pass from earthly joys away; 
Our joy abides in Thee; 
Our joy abides in Thee ! 

Yet, when our sins we call to mind, 

We cannot fail to grieve ; 
But Thou art pitiful and kind, 

And wilt our prayer receive : 



258 Devotional Songs. 



ame 



O Jesu, evermore the same, 
Our hope we rest upon Thy Nc 

Our hope abides in Thee ; 

Our hope abides in Thee ! 



For all the future, Lord, prepare 

Our souls with strength Divine ; 
Help us to cast on Thee our care, 

And on Thy servants shine : 
Life without Thee is dark and drear ; 
Death is not death if Thou art near ; 

Our life abides in Thee ; 

Our life abides in Thee ! 



Rev. John Newton. 

NOW, gracious Lord, Thine arm reveal, 
And make Thy glory known ; 
Now let us all Thy presence feel, 
And soften hearts of stone ! 

Help us to venture near Thy throne, 

And plead a Saviour's Name ; 
For all that we can call our own 

Is vanity and shame. 

From all the guilt of former sin 

May mercy set us free : 
And let the year we now begin, 

Begin and end with Thee. 



Epiphany Hymn. 2 59 



Send down Thy Spirit from above, 
That saints may love Thee more, 

And sinners now may learn to love, 
Who never loved before. 

And when before Thee we appear 

In our eternal home, 
May growing numbers worship here, 

And praise Thee in our room ! 



William C. Dix. 

AS with gladness men of old 
Did the guiding star behold ; 
As with joy they hail'd its light, 
Leading onward, beaming bright ; 
So, most gracious Lord, may we 
Evermore be led to Thee ! 

As with joyful steps they sped 
To that lowly manger-bed ; 
There to bend the knee before 
Him. whom heaven and earth adore 
So may we with willing feet 
Ever seek the mercy-seat. 

As they offer' d gifts most rare 
At that manger rude and bare ; 
So may we with holy joy, 
Pure and free from sin's alloy, 
All our costliest treasures bring, 
Christ ! to Thee our heavenly King 



260 Devotional Songs. 



Holy Jesus, every day 
Keep us in the narrow way ; 
And when earthly things are past, 
Bring our ransom'd souls at last 
Where they need no star to guide, 
Where no clouds Thy glory hide. 

In the heavenly country bright 
Need they no created light ; 
Thou its Light, its Joy, its Crown, 
Thou its Sun which goes not down 
There for ever may we sing 
Alleluias to our King. 



%o\ U* corned, tottf) Clou&g 2De0ctntung;< 

John Cennick, C. Wesley, and M. Madan. 

LO ! He comes, with clouds descending, 
Once for favour'd sinners slain : 
Thousand thousand saints attending 
Swell the triumph of His train : 

Hallelujah ! 
God appears, on earth to reign ! 

Every eye shall now behold Him, 

Robed in dreadful majesty ; 
Those who set at nought and sold Him, 

Pierced, and nail'd Him to the Tree, 
Deeply wailing, 

Shall the true Messiah see. 



Prayer is the Soul's Desire. 261 



Every island, sea, and mountain, 
Heaven and earth shall flee away ; 

All who hate Him must, confounded, 
Hear the trump proclaim the day ; 

Come to judgment ! 
Come to judgment, come away ! 

Now Redemption, long expected, 
See in solemn pomp appear ! 

All His saints, by man rejected, 
Now shall meet Him in the air : 

Hallelujah ! 
See the day of God appear ! 

Answer Thine own Bride and Spirit ; 

Hasten, Lord, the general doom ; 
The new Heaven and earth t' inherit, 

Take thy pining exiles home ; 
All creation 

Travails, groans, and bids Thee come ! 

Yea, Amen ! let all adore Thee, 
High on Thine eternal throne ; 

Saviour, take the power and glory ; 
Claim the kingdom for Thine own : 

Oh, come quickly, 
Everlasting God, come down ! 



draper i& tf)e »>oul'0 SDtgtre* 

James Montgomery. 

PRAYER is the soul's sincere desire, 
Utter'd or unexpress'd ; 
The motion of a hidden fire 
That trembles in the breast. 






262 Devotional Songs. 



Prayer is the burden of a sigh, 

The falling of a tear, 
The upward glancing of an eye, 

When none but God is near. 

Prayer is the simplest form of speech 

That infant lips can try ; 
Prayer the sublimest strains that reach 

The Majesty on high. 

Prayer is the contrite sinner's voice 

Returning from his ways, 
While angels in their songs rejoice, . 

And cry — Behold, he prays ! 

Prayer is the Christian's vital breath. 

The Christian's native air ; 
His watch-word at the gates of death ; 

He enters heaven with prayer. 

The saints in prayer appear as one 

In word, in deed, in mind, 
While with the Father and the Son 

Sweet fellowship they find. 

Nor prayer is made by man alone, 

The Holy Spirit pleads ; 
And Jesus, on th' eternal throne, 

For sinners intercedes. 

O Thou, by whom we come to God, 
The Life, the Truth, the Way ! 

The path of prayer thyself hath trod ; 
Lord, teach us how to pray ! 



The Voice of Praise. 2G3 



%ty Fotce of p.rafge* 

William Wordsworth. 

UP to the throne of God is borne 
The voice of praise at early morn, 
And He accepts the punctual hymn, 
Sung as the light of day grows dim. 

Nor will He turn His ear aside 
From holy offerings at noontide : 
Then here reposing let us raise 
A song of gratitude and praise. 

What though our burthen be not light, 
We need not toil from morn to night ; 
The respite of the mid-day hour 
Is in the thankful creature's power. 

Blest are the moments, doubly blest, 
That, drawn from this one hour of rest, 
Are with a ready heart bestow'd 
Upon the service of our God. 

Each field is then a hallow'd spot, 
An altar is in each man's cot, 
A church in every grove that spreads 
Its living roof above our heads. 

Look up to Heaven ! the industrious sun 
Already half his race hath run ; 
He cannot halt nor go astray ; 
But our immortal spirits may. 

Lord ! since his rising in the east, 
If we have falter'd or transgress'd, 



264 Devotional Songs. 

Guide, from Thy love's abundant source, 
What yet remains of this day's course. 

Help with Thy grace, through life's short day, 
Our upward and our downward way ; 
And glorify for us the west, 
When we shall sink to final rest ! 



iCorti ! unto %\zz toe Crp* 

j. E. Carpenter. — Music by N. J. Sporle. 

LORD ! unto Thee we cry, 
When trouble o'er us steals, 
Our refuge is on high, 

Our trust Thy love reveals ; 
To Thee alone we bend, — 

For Thine alone the power, — 
Our Father and our Friend, 
In sorrow's darkest hour ! 

Lord ! unto Thee we cry, 

For whither should we go ? 
The fount is never dry 

From whence Thy mercies flow ! 
Grant that those sacred streams 

Of Thine eternal love 
May waft us from our dreams 

To sunnier shores above ! 



"Thy Will be Doner 265 



Ben Jonson. 

HEAR me, O God ! 
A broken heart 
Is my best part : 
Use still Thy rod, 
That I may prove 
Therein Thy love. 

If Thou hadst not 
Been stern to me, 
But left me free, 

I had forgot 

Myself and Thee. 

For sin's so sweet, 
As minds ill-bent 
Rarely repent, 

Until they meet 
Their punishment. 



"C&g ffiQltll he SDone*" 

Charlotte Elliott. 

MY God, my Father, while I stray 
Far from my home on life's rough way, 
Oh, teach me from my heart to say, — 
" Thy will be done ! " 



266 Devotional Songs. 



Though dark my path, and sad my lot, 
Let me be still, and murmur not ; 
And breathe the prayer divinely taught,- 
" Thy will be done ! " 

What though in lonely grief I sigh 
For friends beloved no longer nigh, 
Submissive still would I reply, — 

" Thy will be done !" 

If Thou shouldst call me to resign 
What most I prize — it ne'er was mine ; 
I have but yielded what was Thine, — 
"Thy will be done!" 

Should grief or sickness waste away 

My life in premature decay, 

My Father ! still I '11 strive to say, — 

"Thy will be done!" 

Let but my fainting heart be blest 
With Thy sweet Spirit for its guest, 
My God, to Thee I leave the rest, — 

"'Thy will be done!" 

Renew my will from day to day, 
Blend it with Thine, and take away 
All that now makes it hard to say, — 

" Thy will be done ! " 

Then, when on earth I breathe no more 
The prayer, oft mix'd with tears before, 
I '11 sing upon a happier shore, — 

" Thy will be done !" 



Submission. 267 



^raging %o$zil)zv. 

Anna L^etitia Barbauld. 

HOW blest the sacred tie that binds, 
In union sweet, according minds ; 
How swift the heavenly course they run, 
Whose hearts, whose faith, whose hopes are one 

To each the soul of each how dear ! 
What jealous love, what holy fear ! 
How doth the generous flame within 
Refine from earth, and cleanse from sin ! 

Their streaming tears together flow 
For human guilt and mortal woe ; 
Their ardent prayers together rise 
Like mingling flames in sacrifice. 

Together both they seek the place 

Where God reveals His awful face; 

How high, how strong, their raptures swell, 

There 's none but kindred souls can tell. 

* 

Nor shall the glowing flame expire 
When nature droops her sickening fire ; 
Then shall they meet in realms above, — 
A heaven of joy, because of love. 



o 



»>ui>mt££totu 

William Ccwper. 
LORD, my best desire fulfil, 



And help me to resign 
Life, health, and comfort to Thy will, 
And make Thy pleasure mine. 



268 Devotional Songs. 



Why should I shrink at Thy command, 
Whose love forbids my fears ? 

Or tremble at the gracious hand 
That wipes away my tears ? 

No, rather let me freely yield 
What most I prize to Thee ; 

Who never hast a good withheld, 
Or wilt withhold from me. 

Thy favour all my journey through 

Thou art engaged to grant ; 
What else I want, or think I do, 

'Tis better still to want. 

Wisdom and mercy guide my way; 

Shall I resist them both ? 
A poor blind creature of a day, 

And crush'd before the moth ! 

But, ah ! my inward spirit cries, 

Still bind me to Thy sway ; 
Else the next cloud that veils the skies 

Drives all these thoughts away. 



Mt Hook to %$tt. 

William Hiley Bathurst. 

FULL of weakness and of sin, 
We look to Thee for life ; 
Lord, Thy gracious work begin, 
And calm the inward strife ! 



Thy Mercies are Great. 269 

Though our hearts are prone to^stray, 

Be Thou a constant Friend ; 
Though we know not how to pray, 

Thy saving mercy send ! 

Let Thy Spirit, gracious Lord, 

Our souls with love inspire, 
Strength and confidence afford, 

And breathe celestial fire ! 

Teach us first to feel our need, 

Then all that need supply ; 
When we hunger, deign to feed, 

And hear us when we cry ! 

When we cleave to earthly things, 

Send Thy reviving grace ; 
Raise our souls, and give them wings 

To reach Thy holy place ! 



Cfjj ^ercieg are d5reat + 

J. E. Carpenter,— Music by X. J. Sporle. 

THY mercies are great, 
For Thy love is unbounded, 
The rich at Thy gate 

Stand abash'd and confounded ; 
The poor and the meek, 

In Thy goodness excelling, 
Thy throne they may seek, 
And may enter Thy dwelling ! 



270 Devotional Songs. 

Thy mercies are great, 

They are never denied us ; 
Our footsteps await ; 

To Thy wisdom confide us ; 
Our hope and our trust 

In Thy goodness we centre, 
That, arisen from dust, 

We Thy kingdom may enter. 



3e£ug ! ^ear and Sa&e ! 

Bishop Reginald Heber. 

LORD of mercy and of might ! 
Of mankind the Life and Light ! 
Maker, Teacher Infinite ! 

Jesus ! hear and save ! 

Who, when sin's tremendous doom 

Gave creation to the tomb, 

Didst not scorn the Virgin's womb, 

Jesus ! hear and save ! 

Mighty Monarch ! Saviour mild ! 
Humbled to a mortal child, 
Captive, beaten, bound, reviled, 

Jesus ! hear and save ! 

Throned above celestial things, 
Borne aloft on angels' wings, 
Lord of lords, and King of kings, 

Jesus ! hear and save ! 

Who shall yet return from high, 
Robed in might and majesty, 
Hear us ! help us when we cry ! 

Jesus ! hear and save ! 



Pleading for Pardon. 271 



^teatoins; for partiom 

Rev. Henry Francis Lyte. 

WHEN at Thy footstool, Lord, I bend, 
And plead with Thee for mercy there, 
Think of the sinner's dying friend, 
And for His sake receive my prayer. 

Oh, think not of my shame and guilt, 
My thousand stains of deepest dye ; 

Think of the blood which Jesus spilt, 
And let that blood my pardon buy. 

Think, Lord, how I am still Thy own, 
The trembling creature of Thy hand ; 

Think how my heart to sin is prone, 
And what temptations round me stand. 

Oh, think upon Thy holy Word, 
And every plighted promise there ; 

How prayer should evermore be heard, 
And how Thy glory is to spare. 

Oh, think not of my doubts and fears, 
My strivings with Thy grace Divine : 

Think upon Jesus' woes and tears, 
And let His merits stand for mine. 

Thine eye,. Thine ear, they are not dull ; 

Thine arm can never shorten'd be ; 
Behold me here ; my heart is full ; 

Behold, and spare, and succour me ! 



272 Devotional Songs. 



"^aliotoeti be %ty ipame!" 

J. E. Carpenter.— Music by N. J. Sporle. 

« T_T ALLOW'D be Thy name ! " 
J- J- Even while we sleep, 
In our dreams the same 

As when we wake to weep ; 
In the hour of joy, 

In the hour of shame, 
Lord ! our thoughts employ — 

" Hallow'd be Thy name ! " 



On the raging sea, 

In the desert lone, 
Lord ! we bend the knee, 

And bow before Thy throne ; 
Dread ruler of the flood, 

And of the raging flame, 
Omnipotent and good, 

" Hallow'd be Thy name ! " 



®% Irip ma, Horn ! 

Dean Milman. 

OH, help us, Lord ! each hour of need 
Thy heavenly succour give ; 
Help us in thought, and word, and deed, 
Each hour on earth we live. 



Calm. 273 

Oh, help us when our spirits bleed 

With contrite anguish sore ; 
And when our hearts are cold and dead, 

Oh, help us, Lord, the more. 

Oh, help us through the prayer of faith 

More firmly to believe ; 
For still the more the servant hath, 

The more shall he receive. 

If strangers to Thy fold we call, 

Imploring at Thy feet, 
The crumbs that from Thy table fall, 

'Tis all we dare entreat 

But be it, Lord of Mercy, all, 

So Thou wilt grant but this : 
The crumbs that from Thy table fall 

Are light, and life, and bliss. 

Oh, help us, Jesus, from on high ; 

We know no help but Thee ; 
Oh, help us so to live and die 

As Thine in heaven to be. 



Calm. 

Rev. Horatius Bonar, D.D. 

« 

CALM me, my God, and keep me calm, 
Whilst these hot breezes blow ; 
Be like the night-dew's cooling balm 
Upon earth's fever d brow ! 

S 



274 Devotional Songs. 

Calm me, my God, and keep me calm, 

Soft resting on Thy breast ; 
Soothe me with holy hymn and psalm, 

And bid my spirit rest. 

Calm me, my God, and keep me calm, 
Let Thine outstretched wing 

Be like the shade of Elim's palm 
Beside her desert-spring. 

Yes ; keep me calm, though loud and rude 
The sounds my ear that greet ; 

Calm in the closet's solitude, 
Calm in the bustling street ; 

Calm in the hour of buoyant health, 

Calm in my hour of pain ; 
Calm in my poverty or wealth, 

Calm in my loss or gain ; 

Calm in the sufferance of wrong, 
Like Him who bore my shame ; 

Calm 'mid the threat'ning, taunting throng, 
Who hate Thy holy Name. 

Calm as the ray of sun or star, 
Which storms assail in vain, 

Moving unruffled through earth's war, 
Th' eternal calm to gain ! 



In Thee, O Lord, we put our Trust. 275 



3|it %\tz^ jflD HorD, toe $ut our %vu&t, 

]. E. Carpenter. — Music by Stephen Glover. 

IN Thee, O Lord, we put our trust, 
Thy ways are for the good and just ; 
We mark Thy presence in the breeze, 
The leaf it severs from the trees, 
The flower that blooms and then decays, 
In all we mark Thy wondrous ways ; 
Our faith and trust we place in Thee, 
Dread Ruler of eternity ! 

In Thee, O Lord, we put our trust, 
We, trembling children of the dust ; 
For every thing that lives and moves 
Thy impress bears, Thy presence proves ; 
The seasons, as they onward roll, 
Bear witness to Thy wise control ; 
The streams, the hills, the rocks, the sea, 
Bear token of Thy majesty ! 

In Thee, O Lord, we put our trust ; 
We know that Thou art good and just ; 
That Thou alone hast power to save 
The sinner in his early grave ; 
Grant us, we pray, for Thy dear Son, 
That, when life's weary race is run, 
Our trembling souls may meet the just, 
Who place, O Lord, in Thee their trust ! 



276 Devotional Songs. 

"ftfll&at srtjall 31 l&etttier?" 

Psalm cxvi. 12, 13. 

Rev. John Newton. 

FOR mercies, countless as the sands, 
Which daily I receive 
From Jesus my Redeemer's hands, 
My soul, what canst thou give ? 

Alas ! from such a heart as mine, 
What can I bring Him forth ? 

My best is stain'd and dyed with sin, 
My all is nothing worth. 

Yet this acknowledgment I '11 make 
For all He has bestow'd ; 

Salvation's sacred cup I '11 take, 
And call upon my God. 

The best returns for one like me, 
So wretched and so poor, 

Is from His gifts to draw a plea, 
And ask Him still for more. 

I cannot serve Him as I ought, 
No works have I to boast ; 

Yet would I glory in the thought 
That I should owe Him most. 



Prayer for Children. 2JJ 



draper for CJittireru 

William Cowper. 

GRACIOUS Lord, our children see, 
By Thy mercy we are free ; 
But shall these, alas ! remain 
Subjects still of Satan's reign ? 
Israel's young ones when of old 
Pharaoh threaten'd to withhold ; 
Then Thy messenger said, " No ; 
Let the children also go." 

When the angel of the Lord, 
Drawing forth his dreadful sword, 
Slew, with an avenging hand, 
All the first-born of the land, 
Then the people's door he pass'd 
Where the bloody sign was placed : 
Hear us now, upon our knees, 
Plead the blood of Christ for these ! 

Lord, we tremble, for we know 
How the fierce malicious foe, 
Wheeling round his watchful flight, 
Keeps them ever in his sight. 
Spread Thy pinions, King of kings ! 
Hide them safe beneath Thy wings, 
Lest the ravenous bird of prey 
Stoop, and bear the brood away. 



278 Devotional Songs. 

dje Horfci'g draper. 

Rev. Edward Pearson. 



FATHER of all, supremely great, 
Of heaven and earth the Lord ! 
To Thee all creatures owe their birth ; 
Be Thou by all adored ! 



Soon may Thy laws be truly known, 

And o'er the world extend : 
Soon to Thy wise and righteous sway 

May all the nations bend ! 

As angels in the heavenly state 

Thy blest commands fulfil, 
So may Thy servants here on earth 

Obey Thy holy will ! 

On Thee we day by day depend, 

And on Thy care rely : 
From daily dangers guard us safe, 

Our daily wants supply ! 

Forgive our past offences, Lord ! 

Thy healing grace bestow : 
That mercy we to others grant, 

To us in mercy show ! 

When from without temptations call, 

Or lusts incite within, 
Oh, give us strength each care to shun, 

And save our souls from sin. 



Nearer, my God, to Thee. 279 

ADDITIONAL VERSE. 

The Rev. James Plumbtre. 

For Thine 's the kingdom — glory Thine. 

And Thine almighty power : 
It was at first, it now doth shine, 

And shall when Time 's no more. 



fearer, mj (Boti, to C&ee* 

S. F. Adams. — Mtisic by Stephen Glover. 
EARER, my God, to Thee, 



N 



Nearer to Thee ; 
E'en though it be a cross 

That raiseth me, 
Still all my song shall be, 
Nearer, my God, to Thee, 

Nearer to Thee ! 

Though, like a wanderer, 

The sun gone down. 

Darkness comes over me, 
My rest a stone ; 

Yet in my dreams I 'd be 

Nearer, my God, to Thee, 
Nearer to Thee ! 

There let my way appear 

Steps unto heaven; 

All that Thou sendest me 
In mercy given ; 

Angels to beckon me 

Nearer, my God, to Thee, 
Nearer to Thee ! 



280 Devotional Songs. 

Then, with my waking thoughts 
Bright with Thy praise, 

Out of my stony griefs 

Bethel I '11 raise ; 

So by my woes to be 

Nearer, my God, to Thee, 
Nearer to Thee ! 

And when on joyful wing 
Cleaving the sky, 

Sun, moon, and stars forgot, 
Upward I fly, 

Still all my song shall be, 

Nearer, my God, to Thee, 
Nearer to thee ! 



jatutie tofrt) ®$z. 

Rev. H. F. Lyte. 

ABIDE with me ; fast falls the eventide ; 
The darkness deepens ; Lord, with me abide 
When other helpers fail, and comforts flee, 
Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me. 

Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day ; 
Earth's joys grow dim, its glories pass away ; 
Change and decay in all around I see ; 
O Thou who changest not, abide with me. 

Not a brief glance. I beg a passing word ; 
But, as Thou dwell'st with Thy disciples, Lord, 
Familiar, condescending, patient, free, 
Come, not to sojourn, but abide with me. 



The Humble State. 281 

Come not in terrors as the King of kings ; 
But kind and good, with healing in Thy wings ; 
Tears for all woes, a heart for every plea ; 
Come, Friend of sinners, and thus bide with me. 

I need Thy presence every passing hour ; 
What but Thy grace can foil the tempter's power ? 
Who like Thyself my guide and stay can be ? 
Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me. . 

I fear no foe with Thee at hand to bless ; 
Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness ; 
Where is death's sting, where, grave, thy victory? 
I triumph still, if Thou abide with me. 

Hold Thou Thy Cross before my closing eyes ; 
Shine through the gloom, and point me to the skies ; 
Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows flee ; 
In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me. . 



%\)z fumble £>tate* 

Mrs Hannah More. 

GREAT Lord of all things ! Power divine ! 
Breathe on this erring heart of mine 
Thy grace serene and pure ; 
Defend my frail, my erring youth, 
And teach me this important truth, 
The humble are secure. 

Teach me to bless my "lowly lot, 
Confined to this paternal cot, 

Remote from regal state ! 
Content to court the cooling glade, 
Inhale the breeze, enjoy the shade, 

And love my humble fate. 



282 Devotional Songs. 



No anxious vigils here I keep, 

No dreams of gold disturb my sleep, 

Nor lead my heart astray ; 
Nor blasting Envy's tainted gale 
Pollutes the pleasures of the vale, 

To vex my harmless day. 

Yon tower which rears its head so high, 
And bids defiance to the sky, 

Invites the hostile winds : 
Yon branching oak extending wide, 
Provokes destruction by its pride, 

And courts the fall it finds. 

Then let me shun th' ambitious deed, 
And all the dangerous paths which lead 

To honour falsely won : 
Lord ! in Thy sure protection blest, 
Submissive will I ever rest, 

And may Thy will be done ! 



"1$t 05 all jFeen W JFlocfu" 

Ralph Erskine. 

OH, send me down a draught of love, 
Or take me hence to drink above ! 
Here, Marah's water fills my cup ; 
But there, all griefs are swallow'd up. 

Love here is scarce a faint desire ; 
But there, the spark's a flaming fire; 
Joys here are drops, that passing flee ; 
But there, an overflowing sea. 



L igh t E teriial. 283 



My faith, that sees so darkly here, 
Will there resign to vision clear ; 
My hope, that 's here a weary groan, 
Will to fruition yield the throne. 

Here fetters hamper freedom's wing; 
But there, the captive is a king ; 
And grace is like a buried seed ; 
But sinners there are saints indeed. 

My portion here's a crumb at best; 
But there, the Lamb's eternal feast ; 
My praise is now a smother'd fire ; 
But then I '11 sing, and never tire. 

Now dusky shadows cloud my day ; 
But then, the shades will flee away; 
My Lord will break the dimming glass, 
And show His glory face to face. 

My numerous foes now beat me down ; 
But then, I '11 wear the victor's crown ; 
Yet all the revenues I '11 bring 
To Zion's everlasting King ! 



Utoftt (EttrnaL 

William Hammond. 

OLORD, how little do we know, 
How little of Thy presence feel, 
While we continue here below, 

And in these earthly houses dwell ! 



284 Devotional Songs. 

When will these veils of flesh remove, 
And not eclipse our sight of God ? 

When wilt Thou take us up above, 
To see Thy face without a cloud ? 

Show Thy omnipotence to save ; 

The characters of sin efface ; 
Thine image on our hearts engrave, 

And let us feel Thy sweet embrace ! 



Dart in our hearts a heavenly ray, 

A ray which still may shine more bright, 

Increasing to the perfect day, 
Till we awake in endless light ! 

Then shall each Star become a Sun, 
Fill'd with a lustre all Divine ; 

Each shall possess a radiant crown, 
And to eternal ages shine. 



SDeliffSt in tlje Hortu 

John Ryland. 

OLORD, I would delight in Thee, 
And on Thy care depend ; 
To Thee in every trouble flee, 
My best, my only Friend. 

When all created streams are dried, 

Thy fulness is the same ; 
May I with this be satisfied, 

And glory in Thy Name ! 



Gratitude to God. 28 



Why should the soul a drop bemoan, 

Who has a fountain near; 
A fountain, which will ever run 

With waters sweet and clear ? 

No good in creatures can be found, 
But may be found in Thee ; 

I must have all things, and abound, 
While God is God to me. 

Oh, that I had a stronger faith, 

To look within the veil ! 
To credit what my Saviour saith, 

Whose word can never fail ! 

He that has made my heaven secure, 
Will here all good provide ; 

While Christ is rich, can I be poor ? 
Wliat can I want beside ? 

O Lord, I cast my care on Thee ; 

I triumph and adore : 
Henceforth my great concern shall be 

To love and please Thee more. 



(BratftuHe to (0otu 

William Cowper. 

HOW blest Thy creature is, O God, 
When with a single eye 
He views the lustre of Thy word, 
The day springs from on high. 



286 Devotional Songs. 



Through all the storms that veil the skies, 

And frown on earthly things, 
The Sun of Righteousness he eyes 

With healing on His wings. 

Struck by that light, the human heart, 

A barren soil no more, 
Sends the sweet smell of grace abroad, 

Where serpents lurk'd before. 

The glorious orb, whose golden beams 

The fruitful year control, 
Since first, obedient to Thy word, 

He started from the goal, 

Has cheer'd the nations with the joys 

His orient rays impart ; 
But, Jesus, 'tis Thy light alone 

Can shine upon the heart. 



d5ooti iffritia^ 

Dean Henry Hart Milman. 

BOUND upon th' accursed tree, 
Faint and bleeding, who is He ? 
By the eyes so pale and dim, 
Streaming blood and writhing limb, 
By the flesh with scourges torn, 
By the crown of twisted thorn, 
By the side so deeply pierced, 
By the baffled burning thirst, 
By the drooping death-dew'd brow, 
Son of Man ! 'tis Thou ! 'tis Thou ! 



Good Friday. 287 



Bound upon th' accursed tree, 
Dread and awful, who is Ke ? 
By the sun at noonday pale, 
Shivering rocks,' and rending veil, 
By earth that trembles at His doom, 
By yonder saints, who burst their tomb, 
By Eden promised, ere He died, 
To the felon at His side ; 
Lord, our suppliant knees we bow, 
Son of God ! 'tis Thou ! 'tis Thou ! 

Bound upon th' accursed tree, 
Sad, and dying, who is He ? 
By the last and bitter cry, 
The ghost-given up in agony, 
By the lifeless body laid 
In the chamber of the dead, 
By the mourners come to weep 
Where the bones of Jesus sleep ; 
Crucified ! we know Thee now ; 
Son of Man ! 'tis Thou ! 'tis Thou ! 

Bound upon th' accursed tree, 

Dread and awful, who is He ? 

By the prayer for them that slew — 

" Lord ! they know not what they do ! " 

By the spoil'd and empty grave, 

By the souls He died to save, 

By the conquest He hath won, 

By the saints before His throne, 

By the rainbow round His brow, 

Son of God ! 'tis Thou ! 'tis Thou ! 



288 Devotional Songs. 



Cf)ri0t Crucffietr* 

Dean Milman. 

RIDE on ! ride on in majesty ! 
Hark ! all the tribes Hosanna cry : 
Thine humble beast pursues his road, 
With palms and scatter'd garments strew'd. 

Ride on ! ride on in majesty ! 

In lowly pomp ride on to die : 

O Christ, Thy triumphs now begin 

O'er captive death and conquer'd sin. 

Ride on ! ride on in majesty ! 
The winged squadrons of the sky 
Look down with sad and wondering eyes 
To see the approaching Sacrifice. 

Ride on ! ride on in majesty ! 
The last and fiercest strife is nigh : 
The Father on His sapphire Throne 
Awaits His own anointed Son. 

Ride on ! ride on in majesty ! 

In lowly pomp ride on to die ; 

Bow Thy meek Head to mortal pain, 

Then take, O God, Thy power, and reign. 



C&ou art tottlj fl£e* 

Psalm xxiii. 4. 

E. Carpenter. — Mtisic by J. R. Thomas. 

THOU art with me, ever with me, 
Lord of mercy, King of might ! 
In the sunshine of the morning, 
In the darkness of the night. 



Calvary. 289 



Of the grave was on my brow, 
Thy Word the staff I leant on, 
And in health my comfort now. 

Thou art with me, ever with me, 

And no evil I will fear ; 
In the hour of my affliction 

Thou art by my soul to cheer : 
Through Thee, my Lord and Saviour, 

I am victor in the strife, 
For Thy Cross the portals open'd, 

And made Death the Gate of Life. 



Bishop Heber, 

THE Lord of might, from Sinai's brow, 
Gave forth His voice of thunder, 
And Israel lay on earth below, 

Outstretch'd in fear and wonder: 
Beneath His feet was pitchy night, 
And at His left hand and His right 
The rocks were rent asunder. 

The Lord of Love on Calvary, 
A meet and suffering stranger, 

Upraised to heaven His languid eye 
In nature's hour of danger; 

For us He bore the weight of woe, 

For us He gave His blood to flow, 
And meet His Father's anger. 



2cp Devotional Songs. 



The Lord of Love, the Lord of Might, 

The King of all created, 
Shall back return to claim His right 

On clouds of glory seated; 
With trumpet-sound, and angel-song, 
And hallelujahs loud and long, 

O'er death and hell defeated. 



(Brm (BoD, tojat Da 31 feee and l^ear? 

[Frequency called "Luther's Hymn." The first verse from the German of 
Benjamin Ringwald ; succeeding three by Dr W. B. Colly ek.] 

GREAT God, what do I see and hear ? 
The end of things created ! 
The Judge of mankind doth appear 

On clouds of glory seated ! 
The trumpet sounds ; the graves restore 
The dead which they contain'd before : 
Prepare, my soul, to meet Him ! 

The dead in Christ are first to rise, 
And greet th' Archangel's warning," 

To meet the Saviour in the skies 
On this auspicious morning : 

No gloomy fears their souls dismay ; . 

His Presence sheds eternal day 
On those prepared to meet Him. 

Far over space, to distant spheres, 

The lightnings are prevailing : 
Th' ungodly rise, and all their tears 

And sighs are unavailing : 
The day of grace is past and gone ; 
They shake before the Judge's throne, 

All unprepared to meet Him. 



My Cross. 291 



Stay, fancy, stay, and close thy wings, 
Repress thy flight too daring ! 

One wondrous sight my comfort brings, 
The Judge my nature wearing. 

Beneath His cross I view the day 

When heaven and earth shall pass away, 
And thus prepare to meet Him. 



3£j? €vo&$. 

Rev. Henry Francis Lyte. 

JESUS, I my cross have taken, 
All to leave, and follow Thee ; 
Destitute, despised, forsaken, 

Thou, from hence, my all shalt be : 
Perish every fond ambition, 

All I 've sought, or hoped, or known ; 
Yet how rich is my condition ! 

God and heaven are still my own ! 

Let the world despise and leave me, 

They have left my Saviour too ; 
Human hearts and looks deceive me ; 

Thou art not, like them, untrue : 
And, while Thou shalt smile upon me, 

God of wisdom, love, and might, 
Foes may hate, and friends may shun me ; 

Show Thy face, and all is bright ! 

Go, then, earthly fame and treasure ! 

Come, disaster, scorn, and pain ! 
In Thy service, pain is pleasure, 

With Thy favour, loss is gain. 



292 Devotional Songs. 

I have call'd Thee, Abba, Father ! 

I .have stay'd my heart on Thee ; 
Storms may howl, and clouds may gather, 

All must work for good to me. 

Man may trouble and distress me, 

'Twill but drive me to Thy breast ; 
Life with trials hard may press me, 

Heaven will bring me sweeter rest. 
Oh, 'tis not in grief to harm me, 

While Thy love is left to me ! 
Oh, 'twere not in joy to charm me, 

Were that joy unmix' d with Thee ! 

Take, my soul, thy full salvation ; 

Rise o'er sin, and fear, and care; 
Joy to find, in every station, 

Something still to do or bear : 
Think what Spirit dwells within thee ! 

What a Father's smile is thine ! 
What a Saviour died to win thee ! 

Child of heaven, shouldst thou repine? 

Haste, then, on from grace to glory, 

Arm'd by faith, and wing'd by prayer; 
Heaven's eternal day's before thee, 

God's own hand shall guide thee there ! 
Soon shall close thy earthly mission, 

Swift shall pass thy pilgrim days ; 
Hope soon change to glad fruition, 

Faith to sight, and prayer to praise ! 



Weeping Mary. 293 



25eneatf) tfje Crojaf&. 

William Williams. 

BENEATH Thy cross I lay me down, 
And mourn to see Thy bloody crown 
Love drops in blood from every vein ; 
Love is the spring of all His pain. 

Here, Jesus, I shall ever stay, 
And spend my longing hours away, 
Think on Thy bleeding wounds and pain, 
And contemplate Thy woes again. 

The rage of Satan and of sin, 
Of foes without, and fears within, 
Shall ne'er my conquering soul remove, 
Or from Thy cross, or from Thy love. 

Secured from harms beneath Thy shade, 
Here death and hell shall ne'er invade; 
Nor Sinai, with its thundering noise, 
Shall e'er disturb my happier joys. 

Oh, unmolested happy rest, 
Where inward fears are all supprest ; 
Here I shall love, and live secure, 
And patiently my cross endure. 



Oflleepfng; ^arp* 

John xx. 11-16. 

Rev. John Newton. 

MARY to her Saviour's tomb 
Hasted at the early dawn ; 
Spice she brought, and sweet perfume 
But the Lord she loved was gone. 



294 Devotional Songs. 

For a while she weeping stood, 
Struck with sorrow and surprise, 

Shedding tears a plenteous flood, 
For her heart supplied her eyes. 

Jesus, who is always near, 

Though too often unperceived, 
Came His drooping child to cheer, 

Kindly asking why she grieved. 
Though at first she knew Him not, 

When He call'd her by her name, 
Then her griefs were all forgot, 

For she found He was the same. 

Grief and sighing quickly fled, 

When she heard His welcome voice ; 
Just before, she thought him dead ; 

Now, He bids her heart rejoice. 
What a change His word can make, 

Turning darkness into day ! 
You who weep for Jesus' sake, 

He will wipe your tears away. 

He who came to comfort her, 

When she thought her all was lost, 
Will for your relief appear, 

Though you now are tempest-toss'd 
On His word your burden cast, 

On His love your thoughts employ ; 
Weeping for a while may last, 

But the morning brings the joy. 



The Sinner's Friend. 295 



Cjje »>fttnec'0 jfrfnxti* 

Charlotte Elliott. 

OTHOU, the contrite sinner's Friend, 
Who loving, lovst them to the end. 
On this alone my hopes depend, 
That Thou wilt plead for me ! 

When, weary in the Christian race, 
Far off appears my resting-place, 
And fainting I mistrust Thy grace, 
Then, Saviour, plead for me ! 

When I have err d and gone astray 
Afar from Thine and Wisdom's way, 
And see no glimmering guiding ray, 
Still, Saviour, plead for me ! 

When Satan, by my sins made bold, 
Strives from Thy cross to loose my hold, 
Then with Thy pitying arms enfold, 
And plead, oh plead for me ! 

And when my dying hour draws near, 
Darken'd with anguish, guilt, and fear, 
Then to my fainting sight appear, 
Pleading in heaven for me ! 

When the full light of heavenly day 
Reveals my sins in dread array, 
Say Thou hast wash'd them all away ; 
Oh say, Thou plead' st for me ! 



296 Devotional Songs. 



Bearing: tjje Crog& 

Rev. Sir Henry Baker. 

OH what, if we are Christ's, 
Is earthly shame or loss ? 
Bright shall the crown of glory be, 
When we have borne the cross. 



Bitter the cup of woe, 
When martyr d saints, baptized in blood, 
Christ's sufferings shared below. 

Bright is their glory now, 

Boundless their joy above, 
Where, on the bosom of their God, 

They rest in perfect love. 

Lord ! may that grace be ours ; 

Like them in faith to bear 
All that of sorrow, grief, or pain, 

May be our portion here ! 

Enough, if Thou at last 

The word of blessing give, 
And let us rest beneath Thy feet, 

Where saints and angels live ! 

All glory, Lord, to Thee, 

Whom heaven and earth adore ; 

To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, 
One God for evermore. 



Rock of Ages. 297 



1&0C& of %$*$> 

Rev. A. M. Toplady. 

ROCK of ages, cleft for me, 
Let me hide myself in Thee ; 
Let the water and the blood, 
From Thy wounded side which flow'd, 
Be of sin the double cure ; 
Cleanse me from its guilt and power. • 

Not the labour of my hands 
Can fulfil Thy law's demands ; 
Could my zeal no respite know, 
Could my tears for ever flow, 
All for sin could not atone'; " 
Thou must save, and- Thou alone. 

Nothing in my hand I bring, 
Simply to Thy Cross I cling ; 
Naked, come to Thee for dress ; 
Helpless, look to Thee for grace ; 
Foul, I to the fountain fly ; 
Wash me, Saviour, or I die I 

While I draw this fleeting breath, 
When my eyelids close in death, 
When I soar to worlds unknown, 
See Thee on Thy judgment throne : — 
Rock of ages, cleft for me, 
Let me hide myself in Thee. 



298 Devotional Songs. 

C&e ILzmm of tfie €vo$$. 

Rev. Charles Wesley. 

CHRIST, my hidden Life, appear, 
Soul of my inmost soul ! 
Light of life, the mourner cheer, 
And make the sinner whole ! 
Now in me Thyself display : 

Surely Thou in all things art ; 
I from all things turn away 
To seek Thee in my heart ! 

Open, Lord, my inward ear, 

And bid my heart rejoice ! 
Bid my quiet spirit hear 

Thy comfortable voice ; 
Never in the whirlwind found, 

Or where earthquakes rock the place ; 
Still and silent is the sound, 

The whisper of Thy grace ! 

From the world of sin, and noise, 

And hurry, I withdraw ; ■ 
For the small and inward Voice 

I wait with humble awe : 
Silent am I now and still ; 

Dare not in Thy presence move : 
To my waiting soul reveal 

The secret of Thy love ! 

Thou hast undertook for me ; 

For me to death wast sold ; 
Wisdom in a mystery 

Of bleeding love unfold ! 



Man Honoured above Angels. 299 

Teach the lesson of Thy cross ; 

Let me die, with Thee to reign ! 
All things let me count but loss, 

So I may Thee regain ! 

Show me, as my soul can bear, 

The depth of inbred sin ; 
All the unbelief declare, 

The pride that lurks within : 
Take me, whom Thyself hast bought ! 

Bring into captivity 
Every high aspiring thought, 

That would not stoop to Thee ! 

Lord, my time is in Thy hand ; 

My soul to Thee convert ! 
Thou canst make me understand, 

Though I am slow of heart. 
Thine, in whom I live and move, 

Thine the work, the power is Thine ! 
Thou art Wisdom, Power, and Love ; 

And all Thou art is mine ! 



Rev. John Newton. 

NOW let us join with hearts and tongues. 
And emulate the angels' songs ; 
Yea, sinners may address their King 
In songs that angels cannot sing ! 

They praise the Lamb who once was slain, 
But we can add a higher strain ; 



300 Devotional Songs. 



Not only say, " He suffer' d thus," 
But that " He suffer'd all for us ! " 

When angels by transgression fell, 
Justice consign'd them all to hell ; 
But Mercy form'd a wondrous plan 
To save and honour fallen man. 

Jesus, who pass'd the angels by, 
Assumed our flesh to bleed and die ; 
And still He makes it His abode ; 
As man He fills the throne of God. 

Our Next of kin — our Brother now — 
Is He to whom the angels bow ; 
They join with us to praise His name, 
But we the nearest interest claim. 

But ah ! how faint our praises rise ! 
Sure 'tis the wonder of the skies, 
That we, who share His richest love, 
So cold and unconcern 'd should prove. 

Oh glorious hour, it comes with speed ! 
When we, from sin and darkness freed, 
Shall see the God who died for man, 
And praise Him more than angels can. 



<0oti Incarnate* 

Henry Moore. 

THE Holy Son of God most high, 
For love of Adam's lapsed race, 
Left the sweet pleasure of the sky, 
To bring us to that happy place. 



Litany to the Saviour. 301 

t 

The robes of light He laid aside, 

Which did His majesty adorn, 
And the frail state of mortal tried, 

In human flesh and figure born. 

The Son of God thus man became, 
That man the Son of God might be. 

And by his second birth proclaim 
A likeness to His deity. 



3lttanp to tje »>atifour* 

Dean Henry Hart Milman. 

WHEN our heads are bow'd with woe, 
When our bitter tears o'erflow, 
When we mourn the lost, the dear, 
Gracious Son of Mary, hear. 



Thou our mortal griefs hast borne. 
Thou hast shed the human tear ; 
Gracious Son of Mary, hear. 

When the solemn death-bell tolls 

For our own departing souls ; 
When our final doom is near, 
Gracious Son of Mary, hear. 

Thou hast bow'd the dying head, 
Thou the blood of life hast shed, 
Thou hast fill'd a mortal bier ; 
Gracious Son of Mary, hear. 



302 Devotional Songs. 

When the heart is sad within 
With the thought of all its sin ; 
When the spirit shrinks with fear, 
Gracious Son of Mary, hear. 

Thou the shame, the grief hast known ; 
Though the sins were not Thine own, 
Thou hast deign'd their load to bear ; 
Gracious Son of Mary, hear. Amen. 



lEljere 10 a fountain jftlleti Wtlj Blootu 

William Cowper. 

'"PHERE is a fountain fill'd with blood, 

•A- Drawn from Immanuel's veins ; 
And sinners, plunged beneath that flood, 
Lose all their guilty stains. 

The dying thief rejoiced to see 

That fountain in his day ; 
And there would I, though vile as he, 

Wash all my sins away. 

Dear dying Lamb ! Thy precious blood 

Shall never lose its power, 
Till all the ransom'd church of God 

Be saved, to sin no more. 

E'er since by faith I saw the stream 

Thy flowing wounds supply, 
Redeeming love has been my theme, 

And shall be till I die. 



The Way is Long and Dreary. 303 

Then in a nobler, sweeter song 

I '11 sing Thy power to save, 
When this poor lisping, stammering tongue 

Lies silent in the grave. 

Lord, I believe Thou hast prepared, 

Unworthy though I be, 
For me a blood-bought free reward, 

A golden harp for me : 

'Tis strung and tuned for endless years, 

And form'd by power divine 
To sound in God the Father's ears 

No other name but Thine. 



%\z ffiBap i& Xong; and SDrearg* 

Adelaide A. Procter. 

THE way is long and dreary, 
The path is bleak and bare : 
Our feet are worn and weary, 

But we will not despair. 
More heavy was Thy burthen, 

More desolate Thy way; 
O Lamb of God, who takest 
The sin of the world away, 
Have mercy on us ! 

The snows lie thick around us, 
In the dark and gloomy night ; 

A.nd the tempest wails above us, 
And the stars have hid their light. 



304 Devotional Songs. 

But blacker was the darkness 
Round Calvary's Cross that day ; 

O Lamb of God, that takest 
The sin of the world away, 
Have mercy on us ! 

Our hearts are faint with sorrow, 

Heavy and sad to bear ; 
For we dread the bitter morrow, 

But we will not despair : 
Thou knowest all our anguish, 

And Thou wilt bid it cease ; 
O Lamb of God, who takest. 

The sin of the world away, 
Give us Thy peace ! 



Hftanp to our Hortu 

Sir R Grant. 

SAVIOUR, when in dust to Thee 
Low we bow the adoring knee 
When, repentant, to the skies 
Scarce we lift our weeping eyes, 
Oh, by all Thy pains and woe 
Suffer'd once for man below, 
Bending from Thy throne on high, 
Hear out solemn litany. 

By Thy birth and early years ; 
By Thy life of want and tears ; 
By Thy fasting and distress 
In the lonely wilderness ; 



L itany to our Lord. 5 : 5 

Of :ue =-ib:le :e:vu::er" = p;.-.ve: : 
Jesu, look vriih piling eye ; 
Hear our solemn litany. 

By the sirree! rrie: :h 2: ""ey.: 
1 .: :he rreu.-e v.-here Liuirus slep: : 
By :he rrieleus :ears :ku: rhevr'd 
Over Seleuhr 1: eel .1"; : ele : 
By the mournful word that told 
Tree.:ue:y- lurk 1 ::h:u Thy ::li ; 
Jesu. look with pitying eye ; 
Hear our solemn litany. 

By Thine hour of whelming fear ; 

By Tiin= ;.; euy uuel lereuyer : 
By the purple robe of scorn ; 
By Thy wounds, Thy crown of thorn ; 

By Thy :r; =*, Thy z ir.rs. : u.el cr:es : 
By 7 sacrifice; 

Jesu. 1: :k uh ;e::y:ur eye : 
Pleur :ur seleuer. h:u:.y. 

By Thy .1 e e e expire ug pee.- : 

By the se-el el seuulchrul : :::u : 



306 Devotional Songs. 



Heanfng; on 3*0u& 

Sir Robert Grant. 

WHEN gathering clouds around I view, 
And days are dark and friends are few, 
On Him I lean, who not in vain 
Experienced every human pain ; 
He sees my wants, allays my fears, 
And counts and treasures up my tears. 

If aught should tempt my soul to stray 

From heavenly wisdom's narrow way ; 

To fly the good I would pursue, 

Or do the sin I would not do ; 

Still He, who felt temptation's power, 

Shall guard me in that dangerous hour. 

If wounded love my bosom swell, 
Deceived by those I prized too well ; 
He shall His pitying aid bestow, 
Who felt on earth severer woe ; 
At once betray' d, denied, or fled, 
By those who shared His daily bread. 

If vexing thoughts within me rise, 
And, sore dismay' d, my spirit dies ; 
Still He, who once vouchsafed to bear 
The sickening anguish of despair, 
Shall sweetly soothe, shall gently dry, 
The throbbing heart, the streaming eye. 

When sorrowing o'er some stone I bend, 
Which covers what was once a friend, 



The Easter Hymn, 307 

And from his voice, his hand, his smile, 
Divides me for a little while ; 
Thou, Saviour, mark'st the tears I shed, 
For Thou didst weep o'er Lazarus dead ! 

And oh ! when I have safely pass'd 
Through every conflict but the last ; 
Still, still unchanging, watch beside 
My painful bed, for Thou hast died ! 
Then point to realms of cloudless day, 
And wipe the latest tear away. 



%\z Cagter ^jjtmu 

Anonymous. 

T ESUS CHRIST is risen to-day, 
J Alleluia ! 

Our triumphant holy day, 

Alleluia ! 
Who did once, upon the Cross, 

Alleluia ! 
Suffer to redeem our loss. 

Alleluia ! 
Hymns of praise then let us sing, 

Alleluia ! 
Unto Christ, our heavenly King, 

Alleluia ! 
Who endured the Cross and Grave, 

Alleluia ! 
Sinners to redeem and save. 

Alleluia ! 



308 Devotional Songs. 



But the pain which He endured, 

Alleluia ! 
Our salvation hath procured, 

Alleluia ! 
Now above the sky He's King, 

Alleluia ! 
Where the angels ever sing. 

Alleluia ! 



ADDITIONAL VERSE. 

Rev. Charles Wesley. 

Sing we to our God above, 

Alleluia ! 
Praise eternal as His love, 

Alleluia ! 
Praise Him, all ye heavenly host, 

Alleluia ! 
Father, Son, and Holy Ghost ! 

Alleluia ! 



Cfjrigt Itteeru 

Revs. John Chandler and Isaac Williams. 

NOW morning lifts her dewy veil 
With new-born blessings crown'd ; 
Oh, haste we then her light to hail 
In courts of holy ground ! 

But Christ, triumphant o'er the grave, 
Shines more divinely bright : 

Oh, sing we then His power to save, 
And walk we in His light ! 



Christ Risen. 309 



When from the swaddling bands of shade 
Sprang forth the world so fair, 

In robes of brilliancy array'd, 
Oh, what a Power was there ! 

When He, who gave His guiltless Son 

A guilty world to spare, 
Restored to life the Holy One, 

Oh, what a Love was there ! 

When forth from its Creator s hand 

The earth in beauty stood, 
All deck'd with light at His command, 

He saw, and call'd it good. 

But still more lovely in His sight, 

The earth still fairer stood, 
When the Holy Lamb had wash'd it white 

In His atoning blood 

Still, as the morning rays return, 

To the pious soul 'tis given 
In fancy's mirror to discern 

The radiant domes of Heaven. 

But now that our eternal Sun 
Hath shed His beams abroad, 

In Him we see the Holy One, 
And mount at once to God. 

Oh, holy, blessed Three in One ! 

May Thy pure light be given, 
That we the paths of death may shun, 

And keep the road to Heaven I 



310 Devotional Songs. 



Rev. Charles Wesley. 

CHRIST the Lord is risen to-day, 
Sons of men and angels say : 
Raise your joys and triumphs high, 
Sing, ye heavens, and earth reply. 

Love's redeeming work is done, 
Fought the fight, the battle won : 
Lo, our Sun's eclipse is o'er ! 
Lo, He sets in blood no more ! 

Vain the stone, the watch, the seal r 
Christ hath burst the gates of hell ! 
Death in vain forbids His rise ; 
Christ hath open'd Paradise ! 

Lives again our glorious King : 
Where, O Death, is now thy sting ? 
Once He died, our souls to save : 
Where thy victory, O Grave ? 

Soar we now where Christ has led, 
Following our exalted Head ; 
Made like Him, like Him we rise ; 
Ours the cross, the grave, the skies. 

What though once we perish' d all, 
Partners in our parents' fall ? 
Second life we all receive, 
In our Heavenly Adam live. 

Risen with Him, we upward move ; 
Still we seek the things above ; 



Christ's Ascension. 3 1 1 

Still pursue, and kiss the Son, 
Seated on His Father's throne. 

Scarce on earth a thought bestow, 
Dead to all we leave below ; 
Heaven our aim, and loved abode, 
Hid our life with Christ in God : 

Hid, till Christ our Life appear 
Glorious in His members here ; 
Join'd to Him, we then shall shine, 
All immortal, all divine. 

Hail the Lord of Earth and Heaven ! 
Praise to Thee by both be given ! 
Thee we greet triumphant now ! 
Hail, the Resurrection Thou ! 

King of Glory, Soul of bliss ! 
Everlasting life is this, — 
Thee to know, Thy power to prove, 
Thus to sing-, and thus to love ! 



CJrtWg £0cengfom 

Henry Moore. 

GOD is ascended up on high 
With merry noise of trumpet-sound, 
And princely seated in the sky, 
Rules over all the world around. 

Sing praises then, sing praises loud 

Unto our universal King : 
He who ascended on a cloud, 

To Him all laud and praises sing. 



312 Devotional Songs. 



In human flesh and shape He went, 
Adorned with His passion's scars ; 

Which in Heaven's sight He did present, 
More glorious than the glittering stars. 

Oh, happy pledge of pardon sure, 
. And of an endless blissful state, 
Since human nature once made pure, 
For Heaven becomes so fit a mate ! 

Lord, raise our sinking minds therefore, 
Up to our proper country dear ; 

And purify us evermore, 

To fit .us for those regions clear. 

That when He shall return again 
In clouds of glory, as He went, 

Our souls no foulness may retain, 
But be found pure and innocent. 

And so may mount to His bright hosts 
On eagle wings up to the sky, 

And be conducted to the courts 
Of everlasting bliss and joy. 



%$z IRegumctiotu 

George Herbert. 

I GOT me flowers to strew Thy way ; 
I got me boughs from many a tree : 
But Thou wast up by break of day, 
And brought' st Thy sweets along with Thee. 



Hosanna in the Highest. 3 1 3 

The sun arising in the east, 

Though he give light and the east perfume ; 
If they should offer to contest 

With Thy arising, they presume. 

Can there be any day but this, 

Though many suns to shine endeavour ? 

We count three hundred, but we miss : 
There is but one, and that one ever. 



^oganna fit tlje Ifgfjegt* 

Bishop Heber. 

HOSANNA to the living Lord ! 
Hosanna to the Incarnate Word ! 
To Christ, Creator, Saviour, King, 
Let earth, let heaven hosanna sing. 
Hosanna in the highest ! 

" Hosanna !" Lord, Thine angels cry; 
" Hosanna !" Lord, Thy saints reply : 
Above, beneath us, and around, 
The dead and living swell the sound. 

Hosanna ! Lord, Hosanna in the highest ! 

O Saviour, with protecting care, 
Return to this Thy house of prayer, 
Where we Thy parting promise claim, 
Assembled in Thy sacred Name. 
Hosanna in the highest ! 

But chiefest in our cleansed breast 
Bid Thine eternal Spirit rest ; 



314 Devotional Songs. 



And make our secret soul to be 
A temple pure, and worthy Thee. 
Hosanna in the highest ! 

So, in the last and dreadful day, 
When earth and heaven shall melt away, 
Thy flock, redeem'd from sinful stain, 
Shall swell the sound of praise again. 

Hosanna ! Lord, Hosanna in the highest ! 



3|egug tf&all IBteffftn 

Dr Isaac Watts. 

JESUS shall reign where'er the sun 
Doth His successive journeys run : 
His kingdom stretch from shore to shore, 
Till moons shall wax and wane no more. 

For Him shall endless prayer be made, 
And praises throng to crown His head ; 
His name, like sweet perfume, shall rise 
With every morning sacrifice. 

People and realms of every tongue 
Dwell on His love with sweetest song, 
And infant voices shall proclaim 
Their early blessings on His Name. 

Blessings abound where'er He reigns ; 
The prisoner leaps to lose his chains ; 
The weary find eternal rest, 
And all the sons of want are blest. 



The Resurrection. 315 



Where He displays His healing power, 
Death and the curse are known no more 
In Him the tribes of Adam boast 
More blessings than their father lost. 

Let every creature rise and bring 
Peculiar honours to our King ; 
Angels descend with songs again, 
And earth repeat the loud Amen. 



%\z l&z0uvvzttion< 

Rev. Rowland Hill, 



W : 



Who soon o'er death revived again, 
That all His saints through Him might have 
Eternal conquests o'er the grave. 

Soon shall the trumpet sound, and we 

Shall rise to immortality. 

The saints, who now with Jesus sleep, 
His own almighty power shall keep, 
Till dawns the bright illustrious day 
When death itself shall die away : 

Soon shall the trumpet sound, and we 

Shall rise to immortality. 



When Christ His risen saints shall bring 
From beds of dust and silent clay, 
To realms of everlasting day ! 

Soon shall the trumpet sound, and we 

Shall rise to immortality. 



3 16 Devotional Songs. 

When Jesus we in glory meet, 
Our utmost joys shall be complete ; 
When landed on that heavenly shore, 
Death and the curse will be no more : 

Soon shall the trumpet sound, and we 

Shall rise to immortality. 

Hasten, dear Lord, the glorious day, 
And this delightful scene display, 
When all Thy saints from death shall rise 
Raptured in bliss beyond the skies ! 

Soon shall the trumpet sound, and we 

Shall rise to immortality. 



Rev. Thomas Kelly. 

THE Head that once was crown' d with thorns, 
Is crown'd with glory now; 
A royal diadem adorns 
The mighty Victor's brow. 

The highest place that Heaven affords 

Is His, is His by right, 
The King of kings, and Lord of lords, 

And Heaven's eternal Light. 

The joy of all who dwell above, 

The joy of all below, 
To whom He manifests His love, 

And grants His Name to know. 



To Him sing Hallelujah. 317 

To them the Cross, with all its shame, 

With all its grace, is given ; 
Their -name an everlasting name, 

Their joy the joy of Heaven. 

They suffer with their Lord below, 

They reign with Him above, 
Their profit and their joy to know 

The mystery of His love. 

The cross He bore is life and health, 

Though shame and death to Him : 
His people's hope, His people's wealth, 

Their everlasting theme. 



Co Km gmg; ^alleluja^ 

Rev. Arthur Tozer Russell. 

TO Him, who for our sins was slain, 
To Him, for all His dying pain, 
Sing we Hallelujah ! 
To Him, the Lamb our sacrifice, 
Who gave His soul our ransom-price, 
Sing we Hallelujah ! 

To Him, who died that we might die 
To sin, and live with Him on high, 

Sing we Hallelujah ! 
To Him, who rose that we might rise 
And reign with Him beyond the skies, 

Sing we Hallelujah ! 



3 1 8 Devotional Songs. 

To Him, who now for us doth plead, 
And helpeth us in all our need, 

Sing we Hallelujah ! 
To Him, who doth prepare on high 
Our home in immortality, 

Sing we Hallelujah ! 

To Him be glory evermore ; 

Ye heavenly hosts, your Lord adore ; 

Sing we Hallelujah ! 
To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, 
One God most great, our joy and boast, 

Sing we Hallelujah ! 



JOSIAH CONDER. 

SEE, the ransom'd millions stand, 
Palms of conquest in their hand 
This before the Throne their strain : 
" Hell is vanquish'd ; Death is slain ; 
Blessings, honour, glory, might, 
Are the Conqueror's native right : 
Thrones and powers before Him fall ; 
Lamb of God, and Lord of all ! " 

Hasten, Lord ! the promised hour ; 
Come in glory and in power ; 
Still Thy foes are unsubdued; 
Nature sighs to be renew'd; 
Time has nearly reach'd its sum ; 
All things with Thy Bride say, Come ; 
Jesus, whom all worlds adore, 
Come, and reign for evermore ! 



Praise the King of Heaven. 319 

prafge tf)e l&tna; of beaten. 

Rev. Henry Francis Lyte. 

PRAISE, my soul, the King of Heaven ; 
To His feet thy tribute bring, 
Ransom'd, heal'd, restored, forgiven, 
Evermore His praises sing, 
Alleluia! Alleluia! 
Praise the everlasting King. 

Praise Him for His grace and favour 

To our fathers in distress ; 
Praise Him still the same as ever, 

Slow to chide, and swift to bless : 
Alleluia ! Alleluia ! 

Glorious in His faithfulness. 

Father-like, He tends and spares us, 

Well our feeble frame He knows ; 
In His hands He gently bears us, 

Rescues us from all our foes ; 
Alleluia! Alleluia! 

Widely yet His mercy flows. 

Angels in the height adore Him ; 

Ye behold Him face to face ; 
$aints triumphant bow before Him, 

Gather'd in from every race. 
Alleluia! Alleluia! 

Praise with us the God of grace. 



320 



Devotional Songs. 



feongg of praise. 

James Montgomery. 

SONGS of praise the angels sang, 
Heaven with hallelujahs rang, 
When Jehovah's work begun. 
When He spake, and it was done. 

Songs of praise awoke the morn 
When the Prince of Peace was born ; 
Songs of praise arose when He 
Captive led captivity. 

Heaven and earth must pass away, 
Songs of praise shall crown that day ; 
God will make new heavens, new earth, 
Songs of praise shall hail their birth. 

And can man alone be dumb 
Till that glorious kingdom come ? 
No ; the Church delights to raise 
Psalms, and hymns, and songs of praise. 



Saints below, with heart and voice, 
Still in songs of praise rejoice, 
Learning here, by faith and love, 
Songs of praise to sing above. 

Borne upon their latest breath, 
Songs of praise shall conquer death ; 
Then, amidst eternal joy, 
Songs of praise their powers employ. 



The Voice of Jesus. 321 



Cje Fotce of %z$\x% 

Rev. H. Bonar, D.D. 

I HEARD the voice of Jesus say, 
" Come unto Me and rest ; 
Lay down, thou weary one, lay down 

Thy head upon My breast." 
I came to Jesus as I was, 

Weary, and worn, and sad ; 

I found in Him a resting-place, 

And He has made me glad. 

I heard the voice of Jesus say, 

" Behold ! I freely give 
The living water ; thirsty one, 

Stoop down, and drink, and live !" 
I came to Jesus, and I drank 

Of that life-giving stream ; 
My thirst was quench'd, my soul revived, 

And now I live in Him. 

I heard the voice of Jesus say, 

" I am this dark world's light ; 
Look unto Me, thy morn shall rise, 

And all thy day be bright." 
I look'd to Jesus, and I found 

In Him my star, my sun ; 
And in that light of life I '11 walk 

Till travelling days are done. 



- 



322 Devotional Songs. 



Come to Q$z\ 

Charlotte Elliott. 

WITH tearful eyes I look around ; 
Life seems a dark and stormy sea ; 
Yet midst the gloom I hear a sound, 
A heavenly whisper — Come to Me ! 

It tells me of a plage of rest ; 

It tells me where my soul may flee : 
Oh ! to the weary, faint, opprest, 

How sweet the bidding — Come to Me ! 

When the poor heart with anguish learns 
That earthly props resign'd must be, 

And from each broken cistern turns, 
It hears the accents — Come to Me ! 

When against sin I strive in vain, 
And cannot from its yoke get free, 

Sinking beneath the heavy chain, 
The words arrest me — Come to Me ! 

When nature shudders, loath to part 
From all I love, enjoy, and see ; 

When a faint chill steals o'er my heart, 
A sweet voice utters — Come to Me ! 

Come, for all else must fail and die ; 

Earth is no resting-place for thee ; 
Heavenward direct thy weeping eye ; 

I am thy Portion — Come to Me! 



The A scension. 323 



Oh, voice of mercy, voice of love ! 

In conflict, grief, and agony, 
Support me, cheer me from above, 

And gently whisper — Come to me ! 



Rev. Dean A. P. Stanley, D.D. 

HE is gone — beyond the skies, 
A cloud receives Him from our eyes ; 
Gone beyond the highest height 
Of mortal gaze or angel's flight ; 
Through the veils of time and space, 
Pass'd into the holiest place ; 
All the toil, the sorrow done, 
All the battle fought and won. 

He is gone — and we return, 
And our hearts within us burn ; 
Olivet no more shall greet, 
With welcome shout, His coming feet ; 
Never shall we thank Him more 
On Gennessareth's glist'ning shore, 
Never in that look or voice 
Shall Zion's walls again rejoice. 

He is gone — and we remain 
In this world of sin and pain, 
In the void which He has left ; 
On this earth, of Him bereft ; 
We have still His work to do, 
We can still His path 'pursue, 



324 Devotional Songs. 

Seek Him both in friend or foe, 
In ourselves His image show. 

He is gone — but we once more 
Shall behold Him as before, 
In the Heaven of Heavens, the same 
As on earth He went and came ; 
In the many mansions there, 
Peace for us He will prepare ; 
In that world unseen, unknown, 
He and we may yet be one. 

He is gone — but not in vain ; 
Wait, until He comes again ; 
He is risen, He is not here, 
Far above this earthly sphere ; 
Evermore in heart and mind ' 
There our peace in Him we find, 
To our own Eternal Friend, 
Thitherward let us ascend. 



James Montgomery. 

LORD God, the Holy Ghost, 
In this accepted hour, 
As on the day of Pentecost, 
Descend in all Thy power ! 
We meet with one accord 
In our appointed place, 
And wait the promise of our Lord, 
The Spirit of all grace. 



Whitsunday Hymn. 325 

Like mighty rushing wind 

Upon the waves beneath, 
Move with one impulse every mind, 

One soul, one feeling breathe : 

The young, the old, inspire 

With wisdom from above, 
And give us hearts and tongues of fire 

To pray, and praise, and love. 

Spirit of Light, explore 

And chase our gloom away, 
With lustre shining more and more 

Unto the perfect day ! 

Spirit of Truth, be Thou 

In life and death our Guide ! 
Oh, Spirit of adoption, now 

May we be sanctified ! 



Ml&itguntfoe ^mm 

Rev. John Keble. 

WHEN God of old came down from heaven, 
In power and wrath He came ; 
Before His feet the clouds were riven, 
Half darkness and half flame : 

Around the trembling mountain's base 

The prostrate people lay ; 
A day of wrath, and not of grace ; 

A dim and dreadful day. 



- 



32b Devotional Songs. 

But when He came the second time, 
He came in power and love ; 

Softer than gale at morning prime 
Hover'd His holy dove. 

The fires, that rush'd on Sinai down 

In sudden torrents dread, 
Now gently light, a glorious crown, 

On every sainted head. 

Like arrows went those lightnings forth, 
Wing'd with the sinner's doom : 

But these, like tongues, o'er all the earth, 
Proclaiming life to come. 

And as on Israel's awe-struck ear 

The voice exceeding loud, 
The trump, that angels quake to hear, 

Thrill'd from the deep, dark cloud ; 

So, when the Spirit of our God 
Came down His flock to find, 

A voice from heaven was heard abroad, 
A rushing mighty wind. 

Nor doth the outward ear alone 
At that high warning start ; 

Conscience gives back th' appalling tone ; 
'Tis echoed in the heart. 

It fills the Church of God ; it fills 

The sinful world around ; 
Only in stubborn hearts and wills 

No place for it is found. 



The Holy Trinity. 327 

To other strains our souls are set ; 

A giddy whirl of sin 
Fills ear and brain, and will not let 

Heaven's harmonies come in. 

Come Lord, come Wisdom, Love, and Power, 

Open our ears to hear ; 
Let us not miss th' accepted hour ; 

Save, Lord, by love or fear. 



dje l?ol? Crfnftp* 



Bishop Heber. 

HOLY, Holy, Holy ! Lord God Almighty ! 
Early in the morning our song shall rise to Thee : 
Holy, Holy, Holy ! merciful and mighty, 
God in Three Persons, blessed Trinity ! 

Holy, Holy, Holy ! all the saints adore Thee, 

Casting down their golden crowns around the glassy sea; 

Cherubim and Seraphim falling down before Thee, 
Which wert, and art, and evermore shalt be. 

Holy, Holy, Holy ! though the darkness hide Thee, 
Though the eye of sinful man Thy glory may not see, 

Only Thou art Holy : there is none beside Thee 
Perfect in power, in love, and purity. 

Holy, Holy, Holy ! Lord God Almighty ! 

All Thy works shall praise Thy Name, in earth, and 
sky, and sea : 
Holy, Holy, Holy! merciful and mighty; 

God in Three Persons, blessed Trinity ! 



328 



Devotional Songs. 



W$z W$uz in flDne* 

Dr Isaac Watts. 

I GIVE immortal praise 
To God the Father's love, 
For all my comforts here 
And better hopes above ; 
He sent His own eternal Son 
To die for sins that man had done. 



To God the Son belongs 

Immortal glory too, 
Who bought us with His blood 
From everlasting woe ; 
And now He lives, and now He reigns, 
And sees the fruit of all His pains. 

To God the Spirit's name 
Immortal worship give, 
Whose new-creating power 
Makes the dead sinner live ; 
His work completes the great design, 
And fills the soul with joy divine. 

Almighty God ! to Thee 

Be endless honours done; 
The undivided Three, 

And the mysterious One ! 
Where reason fails with all her powers, 
There faith prevails, and love adores. 



Hymn to the Holy Spirit. 329 

^xnn to tlje ^olg Spirit* 

THOMAS BURRIDGE. 

PRAISE be Thine, most Holy Spirit, 
Honour to Thy Holy Name ! 
May we love it, may we fear it ! 

Set in everlasting fame. 
Honour to Thee, praise, and glory, 

Comforter, Inspirer, Friend ; 
Till these troubles transitory 
End in glory without end. 

By Thy hand, in secret working, 

Like a midnight of soft rain, 
Seeds that lay in silence lurking, 

Spring up green, and grow amain. 
Roots, which in their dusty bosoms 

Hid an age of golden days, 
Stirring with a cloud of blossoms, 

Clothe their barrenness for Thy praise. 

As an island in a river, 

Vex'd with endless rave and roar, 
Keeps an inner silence ever 

On its consecrated shore, 
Flower'd with flowers, and green with grasses : 

So the poor through Thee abide ; 
Every outer care that passes 

Deepening more the peace inside. 

When our heart is faint Thou warmest, 

Justifiest our delight ; 
Thou our ignorance informest, 

And our wisdom shapest right ; 



330 Devotional Songs. 

Hope, the weary one, Thou lendest, 
In the hour of doubt and strife ; 

Thou beginnest, and Thou endest, 
All that Christians count of life. 



Ftm Creator fepirftug. 

COME, Holy Ghost, our souls inspire, 
. And lighten with celestial fire ; 
Thou the anointing Spirit art, 
Who dost Thy seven-fold gifts impart : 
Thy blessed unction from above, 
Is comfort, life,- and fire of love ; 
Enable, with perpetual light, 
The dulness of our blinded sight : 
Anoint and cheer our soiled face 
With the abundance of Thy grace * 
Keep far our foes, give peace at home ; 
Where Thou art Guide, no ill can come. 
Teach us to know the Father, Son, 
And Thee, of both, to be but One ; 
That, through the ages all along, 
This may be our endless song ; 
Praise to Thy eternal merit, 
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. 



H 



^mtt of prafge* 

James Montgomery. 
QLY, holy, holy Lord 



God of hosts, when heaven and earth 
Out of darkness, at Thy word 
Issued into glorious birth, 



Litany to the Holy Spirit. 331 

All Thy works before Thee stood, 
And Thine eye beheld them good, 
While they sung with one accord, 
Holy, holy, holy Lord ! 

Holy, holy, holy! Thee 

One Jehovah ever more ; 
Father, Son, and Spirit, we, 

Dust and ashes, would adore: 
Lightly by the world esteem' d, 
From that world by Thee redeem'd. 
Sing we here, with glad accord, 

Holy, holy, holy Lord! 

Holy, holy, holy ! all 

Heaven's triumphant choir shall sing, 
When the ransom'd victims fall 

At the footstool of their King: 
Then shall saints and seraphim, 
Hearts and voices, swell one hymn, 
Round the throne, with full accord, 

Holy, holy, holy Lord ! 



Hitanp to t\z ^olp Spirit* 

Robert Herrick. 

IN the hour of my distress, 
When temptations me oppress, 
And when I my sins confess, 

Sweet Spirit, comfort me. 



332 Devotional Songs. 

When I lie within my bed, 
Sick in heart, and sick in head, 
And with doubts disquieted 

Sweet Spirit, comfort me. 

When the house doth sigh and weep, 
And the world is drown' d in sleep, 
Yet mine eyes the watch do keep, 

Sweet Spirit, comfort me. 

When God knows I 'm toss'd about 
Either with despair, or doubt, 
Yet before the glass be out, 

Sweet Spirit, comfort me. 

When the tempter me pursueth 
With the sins of all my youth, 
And reproves me for untruth, 

Sweet Spirit, comfort me. 

When the judgment is reveal'd, 
And that open'd which was seal'd, 
When to Thee I have appeal' d,- 

Sweet Spirit, comfort me. 



(Boll tfje &pfrft. 

James Montgomery. 

O SPIRIT of the living God ! 
In all Thy plenitude of grace, 
Where'er the foot of man hath trod, 
Descend on our apostate race ! 



Thou, whose Almighty Word. 333 

Give tongues of fire and hearts of love 

To preach the reconciling word ; 
Give power and unction from above, 

Whene'er the joyful sound is heard. 

Be darkness, at Thy coming, light ; 

Confusion, order in Thy path ; 
Souls without strength inspire with might ; 

Bid mercy triumph over wrath. 

O Spirit of the Lord ! prepare 
All the round earth her God to meet ; 

Breathe Thou abroad like morning air, 
Till hearts of stone begin to beat. 

Baptize the nations far and nigh ; 

The triumphs of Thy Cross record ; 
The name of Jesus glorify, 

Till every kindred call Him Lord. 

God from eternity hath will'd 

All flesh shall His salvation see; 
So be the Father's love fulfili'd, 

The Saviour's sufferings crown'd through Thee! 



John Marriott. 

THOU, whose almighty word 
Chaos and darkness heard, 
And took their flight, 
Hear us, we humbly pray, 
And where the Gospel's day 
Sheds not its glorious ray 
Let there be light ! 



334 Devotional Songs. 

Thou, who didst come to bring, 
On Thy redeeming wing, 

Healing and light, 
Health to the sick in mind, 
Sight to the inly blind, 
Oh, now to all mankind 

Let there be light ! 

Spirit of truth and love, 
Life-giving, holy Dove, 

Speed forth Thy flight ; 
Move on the waters' face, 
Spreading the beams of grace, 
And in earth's darkest place 

Let there be light ! 

Blessed and Holy Three, 
Glorious Trinity, 

Grace, Love, and Might ! 
Boundless as ocean's tide, 
Rolling in fullest pride, 
Through the earth, far and wide, 

Let there be light ! 



lipmn for Irfnftp feuntm^ 

Rev. Henry Marchmont. 

HOLY, Holy, Holy ! unceasing anthems swelling, 
Saints ever sing in concert round Thy throne ; 
Thou, in cloudless splendour, hast Thine eternal dwelling, 
Glorious and great I Thou, Lord, art God alone. 
Triune Jehovah, Holy Trinity; 
Ever undivided, perfect Unity; 
God in Three Persons, to all eternity. 



Hymn for Trinity Sunday. 335 

Holy, Holy, Holy! bright angels ever praising, 
All strike their harps to saintly strains on high ; 

Lost in awe and rapture while on Thy glory gazing, 
Wond'ring with joy, Thy greatness magnify. 
Triune Jehovah, &c. 

Holy, Holy, Holy ! they day and night adore Thee, 
Nor cease nor tire in their glad work of praise ; 

And as they prostrate fall and cast their crowns before Thee, 
All Heaven resounds with their triumphant lays. 
Triune Jehovah, &c. 

Holy, Holy, Holy ! we penitents adoring, 
Trembling with awe would sing with choirs above. 

Till, far beyond this sphere of sin and sorrow soaring, 
In holier songs we sing Thy power and love. 
Triune Jehovah, &c. 

Holy, Holy, Holy ! Lord God of our salvation, 
Thou hast redeem' d and bought us with Thy blood ; 

Thou alone art worthy of highest adoration, 
Thee we adore, our Saviour and our God. 
Triune Jehovah, &c. 

Holy, Holy, Holy ! blest Father, Son, and Spirit ! 

Equal in mercy, majesty, and-might, 
Infinite in glory, and infinite in merit, 

Thee may we praise with all Thy " saints in light." 
Triune Jehovah, &c. 









336 Devotional Songs. 



Rev. John Keble. 

LORD, in Thy name Thy servants plead, 
And Thou hast sworn to hear ; 
Thine is the harvest, Thine the seed, 
The fresh and fading year. 

Our hope, when autumn winds blew wild, 

We trusted, Lord, with Thee : 
And still, now spring has on us smiled, 

We wait on Thy decree. 

The former and the latter rain, 

The summer sun and air, 
The green ear, and the golden grain, 

All Thine, are ours by prayer. 

Thine too by right, and ours by grace, 

The wondrous growth unseen, 
The hopes that soothe, the fears that brace, 

The love that shines serene. 

So grant the precious things brought forth 

By sun and moon below, 
That Thee in Thy new heaven and earth 

We never may forego. 

To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, 

The God whom we adore, 
Be glory, as it was, is now, 

And shall be evermore. Amen. 



Lord of the Harvest. 337 



HorD of tlje l&arfceist. 

Professor Joseph Anstice. 

LORD of the harvest, once again 
We thank Thee for the ripen'd grain ; 
For crops safe carried, sent to cheer 
Thy servants through another year ; 
For all sweet holy thoughts supplied 
By seed-time, and by harvest-tide. 

The bare dead grain, in autumn sown, 
Its robe of vernal green puts on ; 
Glad from its wintry grave it springs, 
Fresh garnish' d by the King of kings : 
So, Lord, to those who sleep in Thee 
Shall new and glorious bodies be. 

Nor vainly of Thy Word we ask 
A lesson from the reaper's task ; 
So shall Thine angels issue forth ; 
The tares be burnt ; the just of earth, 
To wind and storm exposed no more, 
Be gathered to their Father's store. 

Daily, O Lord, our prayers be said, 

As Thou hast taught, for daily bread : 

But not alone our bodies feed, 

Supply our fainting spirits' need : 

O Bread of Life, from day to day, 

Be Thou their Comfort, Food, and Stay ! 



338 Devotional Songs. 



Dean H. Alford. 

COME, ye thankful people, come, 
Raise a song of harvest home ! 
All is safely gather'd in, 
Ere the winter-storms begin ; 
God, our Maker, doth provide 
For our wants to be supplied ; 
Come to God's own temple, come, 
Raise a song of Harvest-Home ! 

We ourselves are God's own field, 
Fruit unto His praise to yield ; 
Wheat and tares together sown, 
Unto joy or sorrow grown ; 
First the blade, and then the ear, 
Then the full corn shall appear ; 
Grant, O Harvest- Lord, that we 
Wholesome grain and pure may be. 

For the Lord our God shall come 
And shall take His harvest home ! 
From His field shall purge away 
All that doth offend, that day ; 
Give His angels charge at last 
In the fire the tares to cast, 
But the fruitful ears to store 
In His garner evermore. 

Then, thou Church triumphant, come, 
Raise the song of Harvest-Home ! 
All are safely gather'd in, 
Free from sorrow, free from sin ; 



Harvest Hymn. 339 



There for ever purified, 
In God's garner to abide. 
Come, ten thousand Angels, come, 
Raise the glorious Harvest-Home ! 



Mrs Anna Letitia Barbauld. 

PRAISE to God, immortal praise, 
For the love that crowns our days ! 
Bounteous source of every joy, 
Let Thy praise our tongues employ. 

For the blessings of the field, 
For the stores the gardens yield ; 
For the vine's exalted juice, 
For the generous olive's use : 

Flocks that whiten all the plain ; 
Yellow sheaves of ripen'd grain ; 
Clouds that drop their fattening dews ; 
Suns that temperate warmth diffuse : 

All that Spring, with bounteous hand, 
Scatters o'er the smiling land ; 
All that liberal Autumn pours 
From her rich o'erflowing stores : 

These to Thee, my God, we owe, 
Source whence all our blessings flow : 
And for these my soul shall raise 
Grateful vows and solemn praise. 



340 Devotional Songs. 



Yet, should rising whirlwinds tear 
From its stem the ripening ear ; 
Should the fig-tree's blasted shoot 
Drop her green untimely fruit ; 

Should the vine put forth no more, 
Nor the olive yield her store ; 
Though the sickening flocks should fall, 
And the herds desert the stall ; 

Should Thine alter'd hand restrain 
The early and the latter rain ; 
Blast each opening bud of joy, 
And the rising year destroy ; 

Yet to Thee my soul should raise 
Grateful vows and solemn praise ; 
And, when every blessing's flown, 
Love Thee for Thyself alone ! 



feunnj 2Dap# in Winm* 

D. F. Macarthy. 

SUMMER is a glorious season, 
Warm, and bright, and pleasant ; 
But the past is not a reason 

To despise the present ! 
So, while health can climb the mountain, 
And the log lights up the hall, 
There are sunny days in winter, after all ! 



S tinny Days in Winter. 341 



Spring, no doubt, hath faded from us, 

Maiden-like in charms ; 
Summer, too, with all her promise, 

Perish'd in our arms : 
But the memory of the vanish'd 

Whom our hearts recall, 
Maketh sunny days in winter, after all ! 

True, there's scarce a flower that bloometh- 

All the best are dead ; 
But the wall-flower still perfumeth 

Yonder garden bed ; 
And the arbutus, pearl-blossom'd, 

Hangs its coral ball : 
There are sunny days in winter, after all ! 

Summer trees are pretty — very, 

And I love them well ; 
But this holly's glistening berry 

None of those excel. 
While the fir can warm the landscape, 

And the ivy clothes the wall, 
There are sunny days in winter, after all ! 

Sunny hours in every season 

Wait the innocent ; — 
Those who taste with love and reason 

What their God has sent ; 
Those who neither soar too highly, 

Nor too lowly fall, 
Feel the sunny days of winter, after all ! 

Then, although our darling treasures 

Vanish from the heart ; 
Then, although our once-loved pleasures 

One by one depart ; 



34 2 Devotional Songs. 

Though the tomb looms in the distance, 
And the mourning pall, 
There is sunshine, and no winter, after all ! 



iLorti of tlje tHarfiegt* 

Rev. John Hampden Gurney. 

LORD of the harvest ! Thee we hail ; 
Thine ancient promise doth not fail ; 
The varying seasons haste their round, 
With goodness all our years are crown'd : 
Our thanks we pay 
This holy day ; 
Oh let our hearts in tune be found ! 

If Spring doth wake the song of mirth, 
If Summer warms the fruitful earth ; 
When Winter sweeps the naked plain, 
Or Autumn yields its ripen'd grain ; 

Still do we sing 

To Thee, our King ; 
Through all their changes Thou dost reign. 

But chiefly when Thy liberal hand 
Scatters new plenty o'er the land, 
When sounds of music fill the air, 
As homeward all their treasures bear ; 

We too will raise 

Our hymn of praise, 
For we Thy common bounties share. 

Lord of the harvest ! all is Thine ! 
The rains that fall, the suns that shine, 



The Sower. 343 



The seed once hidden in the ground, 
The skill that makes our fruits abound ! 

New, every year, 

Thy gifts appear ; 
New praises from our lips shall sound ! 



%\z loftier* 

W. COWPER. 

YE sons of earth, prepare the plough, 
Break up your fallow ground ; 
The sower is gone forth to sow, 
And scatter blessings round. 

The seed that finds a stony soil 

Shoots forth a hasty blade ; 
But ill repays the sower's toil, 

Soon wither'd, scorch' d, and dead. 

The thorny ground is sure to balk 

All hopes of harvest there ; 
We find a tall and sickly stalk, 

But not the fruitful ear 

The beaten path and highway side 

Receive the trust in vain ; 
The watchful birds the spoil divide, 

And pick up all the grain. 

But where the Lord of grace and power 

Has bless'd the happy field, 
How plenteous is the golden store 

The deep-wrought furrows yield ! 



344 Devotional Songs. 

Father of mercies, we have need 
Of Thy preparing grace ; 

Let the same hand that gives the seed 
Provide a fruitful place ! 



%ftmn to tfje Seagong* 

Bishop Heber. 

WHEN Spring unlocks the flowers to paint the laugh- 
ing soil, 
When Summer's balmy showers refresh the mower's toil, 
When Winter binds in frosty chains the fallow and the flood, 
In God the earth rejoiceth still, and owns its Maker good. 

The birds that wake the morning, and those that love the 

shade ; 
The winds that sweep the mountain, or lull the drowsy glade : 
The sun that from his amber bower rejoiceth on his way ; 
The moon, and stars, their Maker's name in silent pomp 

display. 

Shall man, the lord of nature, expectant of the sky, — 
Shall man, alone unthankful, his little praise deny ? 
No ; let the year forsake his course, the seasons cease to be, 
Thee, Master, must we always love, and, Saviour, honour 
Thee. 

The flowers of Spring may wither, the hope of Summer fade, 
The Autumn droop in Winter, the birds forsake the shade, 
The wind be lull'd, the sun and moon forget their old decree, 
But we in Nature's latest hour, O Lord ! will cling to Thee. 



The Leaf. 345 



external Source of efeerp lop. 

Rev. Philip Doddridge, D.D. 

ETERNAL source of every joy, 
, Well may Thy praise our lips employ, 
While in Thy temple we appear, 
Whose goodness crowns the circling year. 

The flowery spring at Thy command 
Embalms the air and paints the land ; 
The summer rays with vigour shine, 
To raise the corn, and cheer the vine. 

Thy hand in autumn richly pours 
Through all our coasts redundant stores^ 
And winters, soften' d by Thy care, 
No more a face of horror wear. 

Seasons and months and weeks and days 
Demand successive songs of praise ; 
Still be the cheerful homage paid 
With opening light and evening shade ! 

Oh ! may our. more harmonious tongues 
In worlds unknown pursue the songs ; 
And in those brighter courts adore, 
Where days and years revolve no more ! 



Isaiah lxiv. 6. 

Bishop Horne. 

SEE the leaves around us falling 
Dry and wither'd to the ground ; 
Thus to thoughtless mortals calling, 
In a sad and solemn sound : 



346 Devotional Songs. 

Sons of Adam, once in Eden, 
Blighted when like us he fell, 

Hear the lecture we are reading, 
Tis, alas ! the truth we tell. 

Virgins, much, too much, presuming 

On your boasted white and red, 
View us, late in beauty blooming, 

Number 1 d now among the dead. 
Griping misers, nightly waking, 

See the end of all your care ; 
Fled on wings of our own making, 

We have left our owners bare. 

Sons of honour, fed on praises, 

Flattering high in fancied worth, 
Lo ! the fickle air that raises, 

Brings us down to parent earth. 
Learned sophs in systems jaded, 

Who for new ones daily call, 
Cease, at length by us persuaded, 

Every leaf must have its fall. 

Youths, though yet no losses grieve you, 

Gay in health and manly grace, 
Let not cloudless skies deceive you, 

Summer gives to autumn place. 
Venerable sires, grown hoary, 

Hither turn th' unwilling eye ; 
Think amidst your falling glory, 

Autumn tells a winter nigh. 

Yearly in our course returning, 
Messengers of shortest stay, 

Thus we preach this truth concerning 
" Heaven and earth shall pass away." 



Saints in Heaven. 347 



On the Tree of Life eternal, 
Man, let all thy hope be staid, 

Which alone, for ever vernal, 
Bears a leaf that shall not fade. 



feafntjaf in leatietu 

Rev. vii. 13-17. 

James Montgomery. 

WHAT are these in bright*array, 
This innumerable throng, 
Round the altar, night and day, 

Hymning one triumphant song ? 
" Worthy is the Lamb, once slain, 
Blessing, honour, glory, power, 
Wisdom, riches, to obtain, 
New dominion every hour." 

These through fiery trials trod ; 

These from great affliction came ; 
Now, before the throne of God, 

Seal'd with His Almighty Name, 
Clad in raiment pure and white, 

Victor-palms in every hand, 
Through their dear Redeemer's might, 

More than conquerors they stand. 

Hunger, thirst, disease, unknown, 
On immortal fruits they feed ; 

Them the Lamb amidst the Throne 
Shall to living fountains lead : 



34-8 Devotional Songs. 

Joy and gladness banish sighs ; 

Perfect love dispels all fear ; 
And for ever from their eyes 

God shall wipe away the tear. 



%\z &aint0 in ^catietu 

Isaac Watts and W. Cameron. 

HOW bright those glorious spirits shine ! 
Whence all their white array ? 
How carrie they to the blissful seats 
Of everlasting day ? 

Lo, these are they from sufferings great 

Who came to realms of light : 
And in the blood of Christ have wash'd 

Those robes which shine so bright. 

Now with triumphal palms they stand 
. Before the throne on high, 
And serve the God they love amidst 
The glories of the sky. - 

His presence fills each heart with joy, 

Tunes every mouth to sing ; 
By day, by night, the sacred courts 

With glad hosannas ring. 

Hunger and thirst are felt no more, 

Nor suns with scorching ray ; 
God is their Sun, whose cheering beams 

Diffuse eternal day. 



O Happy Saints. 349 



The Lamb, who reigns upon the throne, 

Shall o'er them still preside, 
Feed them with nourishment divine. 

And all their footsteps guide. 

'Mid pastures green Hell lead His flock- 
Where living streams appear : 

And God the Lord from every eye 
Shall wipe off even - tear. 



John Berridge. 

O HAPPY saints, who dwell in light, 
Ancl walk with Jesus, clothed in white : 
Safe landed on that peaceful shore, 
W nere pilgrims meet to part no more. 

Released from sin, and toil, and grief, 
Death was their gate to endless life ; 
An open'd cage, to let them fly 
And build their happy nest on high. 

And now they range the heavenly plains, 
And sing their hymns in melting strains ; 
And now their souls begin to prove 
The heights and depths of Jesus' love. 

He cheers them with eternal smile ; 
They sing hosannas all the while ; 
Or, overwhelm' d with rapture sweet, 
Sink down adoring at His feet. 



350 Devotional Songs. 



Ah, Lord ! with tardy steps I creep, 
And sometimes sing, and sometimes weep 
Yet strip me of this house of clay, 
And I will sing as loud as they. 



3]erugalem ? mp l?appp ^crnm 

Anonymous. 

JERUSALEM, my happy home ! 
Name ever dear to me ! 
When shall my labours have an end, 
In joy, and peace, and thee ? 

When shall these eyes thy heaven-built walls 

And pearly gates behold ; 
Thy bulwarks with salvation strong, 

And streets of shining gold ? 

Oh when, thou city of my God, 

Shall I thy courts ascend ; 
Where congregations ne'er break up 

And Sabbaths have no end ? 

Apostles, martyrs, prophets, there 

Around my Saviour stand ; 
And soon my friends in Christ below 

Will join the glorious band. 

Jerusalem, my happy home ! 

My soul still pants for thee ; 
Then shall my labours have an end, 

When I thy joys shall see. 



Christ 's Followers. 351 



^ratge tfie Horti. 

Rev. Henry Francis Lyte. 

PRAISE the Lord, His glories show, 
Saints within His courts below, 
Angels round His throne above, 
All that see and share His love. 
Earth to heaven, and heaven to earth, 
Tell His wonders, sing His worth 
Age to age, and shore to shore, 
Praise Him, praise Him, evermore ! 



Praise the Lord, His mercies trace ; 
Praise His providence and grace, 
All that He for man hath done, 
All He sends us through His Son : 
Strings and voices, hands and hearts, 
In the concert bear your parts ; 
All that breathe, your Lord adore, 
Praise Him, praise Him, evermore ! 



Cjrfeft'g jFolloto*r& 

Bishop Reginald Heber. 

THE Son of God goes forth to war, 
A kingly crown to gain ; 
His blood-red banner streams afar : 
"Who follows in His train ? 

Who best can drink His cup of woe, 

Triumphant over pain, 
Who patient bears His cross below, 

He follows in His train. 



352 



Devotional Songs. 



The martyr, first, whose eagle eye 
Could pierce beyond the grave ; 

Who saw his Master in the sky, 
And call'd on Him to save. 

Like Him, with pardon on his tongue, 

In midst of mortal pain, 
He pray'd for them that did the wrong: 

Who follows in his train ? 

A glorious band, the chosen few, 

On whom the Spirit came ; 
Twelve valiant saints, their hope they knew, 

And mock'd the cross and flame. 

They met the tyrant's brandish' d steel, 

The lion's gory mane ; 
They bow'd their necks the death to feel : 

Who follows in their train ? 

A noble army, men and boys, 

The matron and the maid, 
Around the Saviour's throne rejoice, 

In robes of light array' d. 



They climb'd the steep ascent of heaven. 

Through peril, toil, and pain ; 
O God ! to us may grace be given 

To follow in their train ! 



The Home of Rest. 353 

%\z l^ome of Eegft. 

Rev. Sir Henry Baker, Bart. 

THERE is a blessed home 
Beyond this land of woe, 
Where trials never come, 

Nor tears of sorrow flow ; 
Where faith is lost in sight, 

And patient hope is crown d, 
And everlasting light 
Its glory throws around. 

There is a land of peace, 

Good angels know it well ; 
Glad songs that never cease 

Within its portals swell ; 
Around its glorious Throne 

Ten thousand saints adore 
Christ, with the Father One, 

And Spirit, evermore. 

O joy all joys beyond, 

To see the Lamb who died, 
And count each sacred wound 

In hands, and feet, and side ; 
To give to Him the praise 

Of every triumph won, 
And sing through endless days 

The great things He hath done. 

Look up, ye saints of God, 

Nor fear to tread below 
The path your Saviour trod 

Of daily toil and woe ; 
Wait but a little while 

In uncomplaining love, 
His own most gracious smile 

Shall welcome you above. 



354 Devotional Songs. 

F?om " The Child's Christian Year" 

OLORD, how happy should we be 
If we could cast our care on Thee, 
If we from self could rest ; 
And feel at heart that One above 
In perfect wisdom, perfect love, 
Is working for the best. 

How far from this our daily life, 
How oft disturbed by anxious strife, 

By sudden wild alarms ; 
Oh, could we but relinquish all 
Our earthly props, and simply fall 

On Thine Almighty arms ! 

Could we but kneel and cast our load, 
E'en while we pray, upon our God, 

Then rise with lighten'd cheer ; 
Sure that the Father, who is nigh 
To still the famish' d raven's cry, 

Will hear in that we fear. 

We cannot trust Him as we should ; 
So chafes weak nature's restless mood 

To cast its peace away ; 
But birds and* flowerets round us preach, 
All, all the present evil preach 

Sufficient for the day. 

Lord, make these faithless hearts of ours 
Such lessons learn from birds and flowers 

Make them from self to cease, 
Leave all things to a Father's will 
And taste, before Him lying still, 

E'en in affliction peace. 



H 



The Glory of Heai 'en . 355 



25Ie00eti are tljose tolja fear tlje ILorti. 

John Duff. — Music by E. L. Hime. 

OPELESS are those who shun the Lord, 
Who turn from truth aside, 
Who peril all to gather wealth, 
Who languish in their pride ; 
Troubled their dreams at night shall be, 

Sorrow will dim their day, 
No cheering voice to breathe of hope ; 
Friendless they '11 pass away. 

Bless'd are those who fear the Lord, 

W T ho lead a spotless life, 
Who never did a deed of wrong, 

Or plunged in angry strife : 
Placid and calm their days shall be, 

With sweet contentment blest ; 
No anxious thoughts shall cloud the hour 

They seek eternal rest. 



Clje (Blorp of ^eatien. 

Bishop Richard Mant. 

ROUND the Lord in glory seated 
Cherubim and seraphim 
Fill'd His temple, and repeated 
Each to each th' alternate hymn. 

" Lord, Thy glory fills the heaven, 

" Earth is with its fulness stored ; 
" Unto Thee be glory given, 

"Holy, holy, holy,' Lord!" 



356 Devotional Songs. 

Heaven is still with glory ringing, 
Earth takes up the angels' cry, 

" Holy, holy, holy," singing, 

" Lord of hosts, the Lord most High !" 

With His seraph train before Him, 
With His holy Church below, 

Thus conspire we to adore Him, 
Bid we thus our anthem flow : 

" Lord, Thy Glory fills the heaven, 
" Earth is with its fulness stored ; 

" Unto Thee be glory given, 
"Holy, holy, holy, Lord!" 



Honfffng to be toftjj C!)rigt+ 

Charlotte Elliott. 

LET me be with Thee where Thou art, 
My Saviour, my eternal Rest ! 
Then only will this longing heart 
Be fully and for ever blest ! 

Let me be with Thee where Thou art, 
Thy unveil'd glory to behold; 

Then only will this wandering heart 
Cease to be treacherous, faithless, cold ! 

Let me be with Thee where Thou art, 
Where spotless saints Thy Name adore 

Then only will this sinful heart 
Be evil and defiled no more ! 



A Morning Hymn. 357 

Let me be with Thee where Thou art, 
Where none can die, and none remove, 

Where neither death nor life will part 
Me from Thy presence and Thy love ! 



3 Rowing; %mtu 

Mrs H. More. 

SOFT slumbers now mine eyes forsake, 
My powers are all renew'd ; 
May my freed spirit too awake 
With heavenly strength endued. 

Thou silent murderer, sloth, no more 

My mind imprison'd keep ; 
Nor let me waste another hour 

With thee, thou felon, sleep. 

Think, O my soul, could dying men 

One lavish'd hour retrieve, 
Though spent in tears, and pass'd in pain, 

What treasures they would give. 

But seas of pearly and mines of gold, 

Were offer'd them in vain ; 
Their pearl of countless price is lost, 

And where 's the promised gain ? 

Lord, when Thy day of dread account 
For squander'd hours shall come, 

Oh ! let not this increase th' amount, 
Nor swell the former sum. 



3 5 8 Devotional Songs. 

Teach me in health each good to prize, 

I, dying, shall esteem ; 
And every pleasure to despise, 

I then shall worthless deem. 



S>tar of ^orit anti (Efoett 

F. T. Palgrave. 



**-J Sun of Heaven's heaven ; 
Saviour high and dear, 
Toward us turn Thine ear ; 
Through whate'er may come, 
Thou canst lead us home. 

Though the gloom be grievous, 
Those we leant on leave us, 
Though the coward heart 
Quit its proper part, 
Though the Tempter come, 
Thou wilt lead us home. 

Saviour pure and holy, 

Lover of the lowly, 

Sign us with Thy sign, 
Take our hands in Thine, 
Take our hands and come, 
Lead Thy children home. 

Star of morn and even, 
Shine on us from heaven, 

From Thy glory-throne 

Hear Thy very own ! 

Lord and Saviour, come, 

Lead us to our home ! 



Morning Light. 359 



Rev. Charles Wesley. 

CHRIST, whose glory fills the skies, 
Christ, the true, the only Light, 
Sun of Righteousness, arise, 

Triumph o'er the shades of night ! 
Day-spring from on high be near. 
Day-star in my heart appear. 

Dark and cheerless is the morn 

Unaccompanied by Thee ; 
Joyless is the day's return, 

Till Thy mercy's beams I see, 
Till they inward light impart, 
Glad my eyes, and warm my heart. 

Visit, then, this soul of mine ; 

Pierce the gloom of sin and grief ; 
Fill me, Radiancy Divine, 

Scatter all my unbelief ! 
More and more Thyself display. 

Shining to the perfect day ! 



Scorning; ?Lfa:Ijt. 

Francis Turner Palgrave. 

LORD God of morning and of night, 
We thank Thee for Thy gift of light 
As in the dawn the shadows fly, 
We seem to find Thee now more nigh. 



360 Devotional Songs. 



Fresh hopes have waken'd in our hearts, 
Fresh energy to do our parts ; 
Thy thousand sleeps our strength restore, 
A thousandfold to serve Thee more. 

Yet whilst Thy will we would pursue, 
Oft what we would we cannot do ; 
The sun may stand in zenith skies, 
But on the soul thick midnight lies. 

O Lord of lights ! 'tis Thou alone 

Canst make our darken'd hearts Thine own : 

Though this new day with joy we see, 

O Dawn of God \ we cry for Thee ! 

Praise God, our Maker and our Friend ! 
Praise Him through time, till time shall end ! 
Till psalm and song His Name adore 
Through Heaven's great day of Evermore ! 



®n <$oin$ to Habour* 

Rev. Charles Wesley. 

FORTH in Thy Name, O Lord, I go, 
My daily labour to pursue, 
Thee, only Thee, resolved to know, 
In all I think, or speak, or do. 

The task Thy wisdom hath assign'd 

Oh, let me cheerfully fulfil ; 
In all my works Thy presence find, 

And prove Thine acceptable will. 



The Morning Hymn. 361 

Preserve me from my calling's snare, 

And hide my simple heart above, 
Above the thorns of choking care, 

The gilded baits of worldly love. 

Thee may I set at my right hand, 

Whose eyes mine inmost substance see, 

And labour on at Thy command, 
And offer all my works to Thee. 

Give me to bear Thy easy yoke, 
And every moment watch and pray ; 

And still to things eternal look, 
And hasten to Thy glorious day. 

For Thee delightfully employ 

Whate'er Thy bounteous grace hath given, 
And run my course with even joy, 

And closelv walk with Thee to Heaven. 



%\z Scorning !£pmtu 

Bishop Thomas Ken. 

AWAKE, my soul, and with the sun 
Thy daily stage of duty run ; 
Shake off dull sloth, and joyful rise 
To pay Thy morning sacrifice. 

Thy precious time mis-spent redeem ; 
Each present day thy last esteem ; 
Improve thy talent with due care ; 
For the great day thyself prepare. 

In conversation be sincere ; 
Keep conscience as the noontide clear ; 
Think how all-seeing God thy ways 
And all thy secret thoughts surveys. 



362 Devotional Songs. 

By influence of the light divine 
Let thy own light to others shine ; 
Reflect all Heaven's propitious rays, 
In ardent love and cheerful praise. 

Wake and lift up thyself, my heart, 
And with the angels bear thy part, 
Who, all night long, unwearied sing 
High praise to the Eternal King. 

Awake ! Awake ! Ye heavenly choir, 
May your devotion me inspire, 
That I, like you, my age may spend, 
Like you may on my God attend ! 

May I, like you, in God delight, 
Have all day long my God in sight, 
Perform like you my Maker's will ! 
Oh, may I never more do ill ! 

Had I your wings, to heaven I 'd fly ; 
But God shall that defect supply ; 
And my soul, wing'd with warm desire, 
Shall all day long to Heaven aspire. 

All praise to Thee, who safe hast kept, 
And hast refresh'd me whilst I slept ! 
Grant, Lord, when I from death shall wake, 
I may of endless light partake ! 

I would not wake, nor rise again, 
Even Heaven itself I would disdain, 
Wert Thou not there to be enjoy'd, 
And I in hymns to be employ'd ! 

Heaven is, dear Lord, where'er Thou art ; 
Oh, never then from me depart ! 



The Happy Life. 363 



For, to my soul, 'tis hell to be 
But for one moment void of Thee. 

Lord, I my vows to Thee renew ; 
Disperse my sins as morning dew ; 
Guard my first springs of thought and will, 
And with Thyself my spirit fill. 

Direct, control, suggest this day 

All I design, or do, or say ; 

That all my powers with all their might 

In Thy sole glory may unite. 

Praise God, from whom all blessings flow ; 
Praise Him, all creatures here below ; 
Praise Him above, ye heavenly host ; 
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. 



C&e ^appj %lfz. 

Sir Henry Wotton. 

HOW happy is he born and taught 
That serveth not another's will ; 
Whose armour is his honest thought, 
And simple truth his utmost skill ; 

Whose passions not his masters are, 
Whose soul is still prepared for death, 

Untied unto the worldly care 

Of public fame or private breath ; 

Who envies none that chance doth raise, 
Or vice ; who never understood 

How deepest wounds are given by praise, 
Nor rules of state, but rules of good ; 



364 Devotional Sojigs. 

Who hath his life from rumours freed, . 

Whose conscience is his strong retreat 
Whose state can neither flatterers feed, 

Nor ruin make oppressors great ; 

Who God doth late and early pray, 
More of His grace than gifts to lend, 

And entertains the harmless day, 
With a religious book or friend. 

This man is fi eed from servile bands 
Of hope to rise, or fear to fall ; 

Lord of himsell, though not of lands, 
And having nothing, yet hath all. 



%\z (ftiemng; %miu 

Bishop Thomas Ken. 

ALL praise to Thee, my God, this night, 
For all the blessings of the light ; 
Keep me, oh keep me, King of kings, 
Beneath Thine own Almighty wings ! 

Forgive me, Lord, for Thy dear Son, 
The ill that I this day have done ; 
That with the world, myself, and Thee, 
I, ere I sleep, at peace may be. 

Teach me to live, that I may dread 
The grave as little as my bed ! 
To die, that this vile body may 
Rise glorious at the awful day ! 

O may my soul on Thee repose ; 

And may sweet sleep mine eyelids close ; 



The Evening Hymn. 365 

Sleep, that may me more vig'rous make 
To serve my God when I awake ! 

When in the night I sleepless lie, 
My soul with heavenly thoughts supply 
Let no ill dreams disturb my rest, 
No powers of darkness me molest ! 

Dull sleep, of sense me to deprive ! 
I am but half my time alive : 
Thy faithful lovers, Lord, are grieved 
To lie so long of Thee bereaved. 

But though sleep o'er my frailty reigns, 
Let it not hold me long in chains ! 
And now and then let loose my heart, 
Till it a hallelujah dart ! 

The faster sleep the senses binds, 
The more unfetter' d are our minds ; 
Oh, may my soul, from matter free, 
Thy loveliness unclouded see ! 

Oh, when shall I, in endless day, 
For ever chase dark sleep away, 
And hymns with the supernal choir 



Oh, may my Guardian, while I sleep, 
Close to my bed his vigils keep ; 
His love angelical instil ; 
Stop all the avenues of ill : 

May he celestial joy rehearse, 

And thought to thought with me converse 



$66 Devotional Songs. 



Or in my stead, all the night long, 
Sing to my God a grateful song ! 

Praise God, from whom all blessings flow, 
Praise Him, all creatures here below ! 
Praise Him above, ye heavenly host ! 
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost ! 



#tt (Riettmg; |pn» 

Rev. John Keble. 

SUN of my soul, Thou Saviour dear, 
It is not night if Thou be near : 
Oh, may no earth-born cloud arise 
To hide Thee from Thy servant's eyes. 

When the soft dews of kindly sleep 
My wearied eyelids gently steep, 
Be my last thought how sweet to rest 
For ever on my Saviour's breast. 

Abide with me from morn till eve, 
For without Thee I cannot live ; 
Abide with me when night is nigh, 
For without Thee I dare not die. 

If some poor wandering child of Thine 
Have spurn'd to-day the voice divine, 
Now, Lord, the gracious work begin : 
Let him no more lie down in sin. 

Watch by the sick : enrich the poor 
With blessings from Thy boundless store 



Eventide. 367 



Be every mourner's sleep to-night, 
Like infant's slumbers, pure and light. 

Come near and bless us when we wake, 
Ere through the world our way we take 
Till in the ocean of Thy love 
We lose ourselves in Heaven above. 



(Client in z. 

Anna Blackwell. 

HOW sweet the fall of eve, 
When, in the glowing West, 
The sun hath sunk to rest, 
Yet shining footprints on the air doth leave ; 
While through the deep'ning twilight, soft and low 
The fragrant evening breezes come and go ! 

How beautiful, when light 

Hath fled, and leaf and stream 

Rest in a quiet dream 
Within the curtaining shadows of the night ; 
While troops of stars look down with dewy rays 
And flowers droop their eyes beneath their gaze. 

How silent is the air ! 

Who would not at such a shrine 

To holier thoughts incline ? 
The ever-tranquil night was made for prayer, 
On the hush'd earth, from the o'erarching sky. 
Doth not a solemn benediction lie ? 



368 Devotional Songs. 

And when the hours of night 

Have slowly roll'd away, 

And the victorious day 
Athwart the kindling air speeds arrowy light, 
How gloriously, as in a second birth, 
Awake to radiant life the heavens and earth. 

So, when Life's eve shall fall, 

Within my peaceful breast 
Oh ! may Thy presence rest 

Soft as the hush of night, Father of All ! 

So, from the sleep of death, with quickening ray, 

Wake me to radiant life, Thou God of day ! 



for tlje ^orttfng; of tfje feabtmtf), 

James Montgomery 

TO Thy temple I repair ; 
Lord, I love to worship there, 
When, within the veil, I meet 
Christ before the mercy-seat. 

Thou, through Him, art reconciled ; 
I, through Him, became Thy child ; 
Abba, Father ! give me grace 
In Thy courts to seek Thy face ! 

WTiile Thy glorious praise is sung, 
Touch my lips, unloose my tongue, 
That my joyful soul may bless 
Thee, the Lord my Righteousness ! 

While the prayers of saints ascend, 
God of love ! to mine attend ! 



Sunday. 369 



Hear me, for Thy Spirit pleads ; 
Hear, for Jesus intercedes ! 

While I hearken to Thy law, 
Fill my soul with humble awe ; 
Till Thy Gospel bring to me 
Life and immortality : 

While Thy ministers proclaim 
Peace and pardon in Thy Name, 
Through their voice, by faith, may I 
Hear Thee speaking from the sky ! 

From Thy house when I return, 
May my heart within me burn ; 
And at evening let me say, 
I have walk'd with God to-day ! 



George Herbert. 

ODAY most calm, most bright ! 
The fruit of this, the next world's bud 
Th' indorsement of supreme delight, 
Writ by a Friend, and with His blood : 
The couch of time ; care's balm and bay ; 

The week were dark, but for thy light ; 
Thy torch doth show the way. 

Sundays the pillars are 
On which Heaven s palace arched lies : 

The other days fill up the spare 
And hollow room with vanities, 

2 A 



370 Devotional Songs. 

They are the fruitful bed and borders 
In God's rich garden : that is bare, 
Which parts their ranks and orders. 

The Sundays of man's life, 
Threaded together on Time's string, 

Make bracelets to adorn the wife 
Of the eternal, glorious King. 
On Sunday Heaven's gate stands ope; 

Blessings are plentiful and rife, 
More plentiful than hope. 



Si fetmtmp ^gmm 

Dr Cotton. 

THIS is the day the Lord of life 
Ascended to the skies, 
My thoughts pursue the lofty theme, 
And to the heavens arise. 

Let no vain cares divert my mind 

From this celestial road ; 
Nor all the honours of the earth 

Detain my soul from God. 

Think of the splendours of that place, 

The joys that are on high, 
Nor meanly rest contented here 

With worlds beneath the sky. 

Heaven is the birthplace of the saints, 
To heaven their souls ascend ; 

Th' Almighty owns His favourite race 
As Father and as Friend. 



The Day of Rest. 371 

Oh ! may these lovely titles prove 

My comfort and defence, 
When the sick couch my lot shall be 

And death shall call me hence. 



%\z 2Dap of 1&m> 

Rev. W. Mason.— Air by P ley ell. 

AGAIN the day returns of holy rest, 
Which, when He made the world, Jehovah blest. 
When, like His own, He bade our labours cease, 
And all be piety, and all be peace. 

While impious men despise the sage decree, 
From "vain deceit and false philosophy," 
Let us its wisdom own, its blessings feel, 
Receive with gratitude, perform .with zeal. 

Let us devote this consecrated day 
To learn His will, and all we learn obey, 
In pure Religion's hallow'd duties share, 
And join in penitence and join in prayer. 

So shall the God of Mercy pleased receive 
The only tribute man has power to give, 
So shall He hear, while fervently we raise 
Our choral harmony in hymns of praise. 



372 Devotional Songs. 



Baptismal %mtu 

Dean H. Alford. 

IN token that thou shalt not fear 
Christ crucified to own, 
We paint the cross upon thee here, 
And stamp thee His alone. 

In token that thou shalt not blush 

To glory in His name, 
We blazon here upon thy font 

His glory and His shame. 

In token that thou shalt not flinch 
Christ's quarrel to maintain, 

But 'neath His banner manfully 
Firm at thy post remain ; 

In token that thou shalt not tread 

The paths He travell'd by, 
Endure the cross, despise the shame, 

And sit thee down on high ; 

Thus, outwardly and visibly, 

We seal thee for His own : 
And may the brow that wears His cross 

Hereafter share his throne. 



Communion Ipn. 

Rev. Philip Doddridge, D.D. 



M 



Y God, and is Thy table spread, 
And doth Thy cup with love o'erflow ? 



Invitation to the Sacrament. 373 

Thither be all Thy children led, 
And let them all Thy sweetness know. 

Hail, sacred Feast, which Jesus makes, 
Rich banquet of His Flesh and Blood ! 

Thrice happy he who here partakes 
That sacred stream, that heavenly food. 

Why are its dainties all in vain 

Before unwilling hearts display'd 1 
Was not for them the Victim slain ? 

Are they forbid the children's bread ? 

Oh, let Thy table honour'd be, 
And furnish'd well with joyful guests ; 

And may each soul salvation see 
That here its sacred pledges tastes. 

Let crowds approach, with hearts prepared ; 

With hearts inflamed let all attend ; 
For, when we leave our Father's board, 

The pleasure or the profit end. 

Revive Thy dying churches, Lord ! 

And bid our drooping graces live, 
And more, that energy afford, 

A Saviour's love alone can give. 



inWtation to tjje Sacrament 

Charlotte Richardson. 

THE Lord of Hosts a feast prepares, 
And bids the poor and needy come : 
Ye wanderers haste, for He declares 
For every sinner there is room. 



374 Devotional Songs. 

Ye broken-hearted, self-abhorr'd, 

Who groan beneath the weight of sin, 

Approach the table of the Lord, 

His word hath power to make you clean. 

Ye faithful followers of the Lord, 

Whom the unthinking world despise, 

Who boldly dare His love record, 

Now let your prayers like incense rise. 

Here in the mystic bread and wine 

Your Saviour's death you see display'd ; 

Here the Redeemer's glories shine, 
'Tis here His faithful ones are fed. 

Ye, who your Saviour love, draw near, 
Once more your sacred covenant seal, 

His own blest ordinance revere, 
And all your wants to Him reveal. 

Wayfaring pilgrims bound for heaven, 
And travelling through a dangerous road, 

Lord, let Thy grace to us be given, 
And guide us to Thy blest abode. 

May all who now assemble here, 
And Jesus " Lord and Master" call ; 

In yon bright realms of bliss appear, 
Where God we know is All in All ! 



Holy Matrimony. 375 



Rev. John Keble. 

THE voice that breathed o'er Eden, 
That earliest wedding day, 
The primal marriage blessing, 
It hath not pass'd away : 

Still in the pure espousal 
Of Christian man and maid 

The Holy Three are with us, 
The threefold grace is said. 

For dower of blessed children, 
For love and faith's sweet sake, 

For high mysterious union 

Which nought on earth may break. 

Be present, awful Father, 

To give away this bride, 
As Eve Thou gavest to Adam 

Out of his own pierced side ; 

Be present, Son of Mary, 

To join their loving hands, 
As Thou didst bind two natures 

In Thine eternal bands ; 

Be present, Holiest Spirit, 
To bless them as they kneel, 

As Thou for Christ, the Bridegroom, 
The heavenly spouse dost seal. 



376 Devotional Songs. 

Oh, spread Thy pure wing o'er them, 
Let no ill power find place, 

When onward to Thine Altar 
The hallow'd path they trace. 

To cast their crowns before Thee 

In perfect sacrifice, 
Till to the home of gladness 

With Christ's own Bride they rise. 



<&& CSflfo. 

Rev. John Newton. 

QUIET, Lord, my fro ward heart, 
Make me teachable and mild ; 
Upright, simple, free from art, 
Make me as a weaned child : 
From distrust and envy free, 
Pleased with all that pleases Thee. 

What Thou shalt to-day provide, 

Let me as a child receive ; 
What to-morrow may betide, 
Calmly to Thy wisdom leave : 
'Tis enough that Thou wilt care ; 
Why should I the burden bear ? 

As a little child relies 

On a care beyond his own ; 
Knows he 's neither strong nor wise, 
Fears to stir a step alone ; 
Let me thus with Thee abide, 
As my Father, Guard, and Guide. 



Children Praising Christ. 377 

Thus preserved from Satan's wiles, 

Safe from dangers, free from fears, 
May I live upon Thy smiles, 
Till the promised hour appears, 
When the sons of God shall prove 
All their Father's boundless love ! 



CIjtIDreit praising Cfjrtgt, 

James Montgomery. 

WHEN Jesus left His Father's throne. 
He chose an humble birth ; 
Like us, unhonour'd and unknown, 
He came to dwell on earth. 

Like Him, may we be found below 

In wisdom's paths of peace ; 
Like Him, in grace and knowledge grow, 

As years and strength increase. 

Jesus pass'd by the rich and great 

For men of low degree ; 
He sanctified our parents' state, 

For poor like them was He. 

Sweet were His words, and kind His look, 
When mothers round him press'd ; 

Their infants in His arms He took, 
And on His bosom bless'd. 

Safe from the world's alluring hanns, 

Beneath His watchful eye, 
Thus in the circle of His arms 

May we for ever lie ! 



yS Devotional Songs. 

When Jesus into Salem rode, 

The children sang around ; 
For joy they pluck'd the palms, and strowed 

Their garments on the ground. 

Hosanna our glad voices raise, 

Hosanna to our King ! 
Should we forget our Saviour's praise, 

The stones themselves would sing ! 



^pmtt for a C&iftL 

Rev. John S. B. Monsell, D.D. 

GOD of that glorious gift of grace 
By which Thy people seek Thy face, 
When in Thy presence we appear, 
Vouchsafe us faith to venture near ! 

Confiding in Thy truth alone, 
Here, on the steps of Jesus' throne, 
We lay the treasure, thou hast given 
To be received and rear'd for Heaven. 

Lent to us for a season, we 
Lend him for ever, Lord, to Thee ! 
Assured that, if to Thee he live, 
We gain in what we seem to give. 



Warm as these prayers, upon his head ! 
And on his soul the dews of grace, 
Fresh as these drops upon his face ! 



The Childhood of Christ. 379 

Make him and keep him Thine own child, 
Meek follower of the Undefiled ! 
Possessor here of grace and love ; 
Inheritor of Heaven above ! 



%\z efu'luijoofc of C&rigt* 

Bishop Reginald Heber. 

BY cool Siloam's shady rill, 
How sweet the lily grows ; 
How sweet the breath beneath the hill 

Of Sharon's dewy rose : 
So such the child whose early feet 

The paths of peace have trod ; 
Whose secret heart with influence sweet 
Is lifted up to God. 

By cool Siloam's shady rill 

The lily must decay ; 
The rose that blooms beneath the hill 

Must shortly fade away ; 
And soon, too soon, the wintry hour 

Of man's maturer age 
Will shake the soul with sorrow's power 

And stormy passions' rage. 

O Thou whose infant feet were found 

Within Thy Father's shrine, 
Whose years with changeless virtue crown'd 

Were all alike divine : 
Dependent on Thy bounteous breath, 

We seek Thy grace alone 
In childhood, manhood, age, and death, 

To keep us still Thine own. 



380 Devotional Songs. 



anticipations* of ^eatiem 

James Montgomery. 

FOR ever with the Lord ! 
Amen ! so let it be ! 
Life from the dead is in that word, 
And immortality ! 

Here in the body pent, 
Absent from Him I roam, 
Yet nightly pitch my moving tent 
A day's march nearer home. 

My Father's house on high, 
Home of my soul ! how near, 
At times, to faith's foreseeing eye, 
Thy golden gates appear ! 

My thirsty spirit faints 
To reach the land I love, 
The bright inheritance of saints, 
Jerusalem above ! 

I hear at morn and even, 
At noon and midnight hour, 
The choral harmonies of heaven 
Earth's Babel tongues o'erpower. 

For ever with the Lord ! 
Father, if 'tis Thy will, 
The promise of that faithful word 
E'en here to me fulfil. 

So when my latest breath 
Shall rend the veil in twain, 
By death I shall escape from death, 
And life eternal gain. 






The Dying Christian to his Soul. 381 

Knowing as I am known, 
How shall I love that word ; 
And oft repeat before the throne, 
For ever with the Lord. 



%\z SDjftig; Christian to f)t'0 g>ouL 

Alexander Pope. 

VITAL spark of heavenly flame, 
Quit, oh, quit this mortal frame ! 
Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying, 
Oh, the pain, the bliss of dying ! 
Cease, fond nature, cease thy strife, 
And let me languish into life ! 

Hark ! — they whisper, — angels say, 
" Sister spirit, come away." 
What is this absorbs me quite, — 
Steals my senses, shuts my sight, 
Drowns my spirit, draws my breath ? 
Tell me, my soul, can this be death ? 

The world recedes, it disappears ! 
Heaven opens on my eyes : my ears 

With sounds seraphic ring. 
Lend, lend your wings ! I mount ! I fly ! 
O grave, where is thy victory ? 

O death, where is thy sting ? 



382 Devotional Songs. 

jFrom (Breenlanli'g 3|cp ^otmtam0< 

Bishop Heber. — Music by Sir H. Bishop. 

FROM Greenland's icy mountains, 
From India's coral strand, 
Where Afric's sunny fountains 
Roll down their golden sand, 
From many an ancient river, 
From many a palmy plain, 
They call us to deliver 

Their land from error's chain. 

What though the spicy breezes 

Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle, 
Though every prospect pleases, 

And only man is vile ; 
In vain with lavish kindness 

The gifts of God are strown, 
The heathen in his blindness 

Bows down to wood and stone. 

Can we whose souls are lighted 

With wisdom from on high, 
Can we to men benighted • 

The lamp of life deny ! 
Salvation ! O Salvation ! 

The joyful sound proclaim, 
Till each remotest nation 

Has learnt Messiah's Name. 

W T aft, waft, ye winds, His story, 

And you, ye waters, roll, 
Till like a sea of glory 

It spreads from pole to pole, 



Wisdom. 383 



Till o'er our ransom'd nature 
The Lamb for sinners slain, 

Redeemer, King, Creator, 

In bliss returns to reign. Amen. 



feounti tfje HouD %imhvzL 

Thomas Moore.— A ir, Avison. 

SOUND the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea, 
Jehovah has triumph' d — His people are free. 
Sing ! for the pride of the tyrant is broken, 
His chariots, his horsemen all splendid and brave. 
How vain was their boasting ! the Lord hath but spoken, 
And chariots and horsemen are sunk in the wave. 
Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea, 
Jehovah has triumph' d — His people are free. 

Praise to the Conqueror, praise to the Lord ; 
His breath was our arrow, His word was our sword. 
Who shall return to tell Egypt the story 
Of those she sent forth in the hour of her pride ? 
For the Lord hath look'd out from His pillar of glory, 
And all her brave thousands are dash'd in the tide. 
Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea, 
Jehovah has triumph' d — His people are free. 



(L£lf0tJom. 

William Cowper. 

ERE God had built the mountains, 
Or raised the fruitful hills ; 
Before He. fill' d the fountains 
That fed the running rills ; 



384 Devotional Songs. 



In me, from everlasting, 

The wonderful I AM 
Found pleasures never wasting, 

And Wisdom is my Name. 

When, like a tent to dwell in, 

He spread the skies abroad, 
And swathed about the swelling 

Of Ocean's mighty flood ; 
He wrought by weight and measure, 

And I was with Him then : 
Myself the Father's pleasure, 

And Mine, the sons of men. 

Thus Wisdom's words discover 

Thy glory and Thy grace, 
Thou everlasting Lover 

Of our unworthy race ! 
Thy gracious eye survey' d us 

Ere stars were seen above ; 
In wisdom Thou hast made us, 

And died for us in love. 

And couldst Thou be delighted 

With creatures such as we, 
Who, when we saw Thee, slighted 

And nail'd Thee to a tree ? 
Unfathomable wonder ! 

And mystery divine ! 
The voice that speaks in thunder, 

Says, " Sinner, I am thme ! " 



INDEX OF FIRST LINES. 



Abide with me, fast falls the eventide, 

Again the day returns of holy rest, . 

A hundred years, and still and low, 

Ah, pilot ! 'tis a fearful night, 

All are architects of fate, 

All praise to Thee, my God, this night, 

Alone, alone ! no other face, . 

Alas, what sacred tears are shed, 

Almighty God ! when round Thy shrine, 

A man once built a lighthouse, 

Amidst the ancient mountains, 

Angel of charity, who, from above, . 

An old man and a little child, 

Angels' visits may, they tell us, 

Another year hath fled, renew, 

As down in the sunless retreats of the ocean 

As grew the power of sacred lays, 

As with gladness men of old, 

Awake, arise, thy light is come, 

Awake, my soul, and with the sun, . 

Beautiful cloud, in purest ether sleeping, 

Before Thy footstool, God of truth, . 

Before Jehovah's awful throne, 

Behold yon wretch, by impious passion driven, 

Behold the sun that seem'd but now, 

Behold the sun, how bright, . 

Be meek, be patient, oh ! how blest is he, 

Be merciful, for they are blessed, 

Beneath Thy cross I lay me down, . 

Be not afraid, 'tis I, . . 

Blessed are the pure in spirit, 

B.est Sabbath bells, blest Sabbath bells, 

Bound upon th' accursed tree, 

Brightest and best of the sons of the mornim 

Brother, thou art gone before us, 

But let my due feet never fail, 

By cool Siloam's shady rill, . 

Calm me, my God, and keep me calm, 
Calm on the bosom of thy God, 
Christ, whose glory fills the skies, 
Christ the Lord is risen to-day, 



FACE 

280 

37i 

90 

32 

43 

364 

134 

17 

121 

113 

119 

47 

174 

120 

257 

9 

28 

259 
159 
361 

43 
128 
242 

25 
206 
207 
145 
146 

293 
138 
169 
85 
286 
220 
210 
9 
379 

273 
47 
359 
310 



2 B 



386 



Index of First Lines, 



Christ ! my hidden life, appear, 

Cheer thee ! faint and weary one, . 

Come, Holy Ghost, our souls inspire, 

Come, let 's sing in tuneful numbers, 

Come not, O Lord, in the dread robe of splendour 

Come, oh come, with sacred lays, 

Come, ye disconsolate, 

Come, ye thankful people, come, 

Deal kindly with those speechless ones, 
Dying, still slowly dying, 

Ere God had built the mountains, 
Ere on my bed my limbs I lay, 
Eternal God, of beings first, . 
Eternal source of every joy, . 
Ethereal race, inhabitants of air, 
Ever are two voices speaking, 
Eyes that have spent their weeping, 

Farewell, oh, farewell, 

Fallen is thy throne, O Israel, 

Far o'er the wave when the winds are asleep 

Father of all, supremely great, 

For ever with the Lord, 

Forgive, bless'd shade, the tributary tear 

Forth in Thy name, O Lord, I go, . 

For ever ! it is written on, 

Forth from the ark the sacred dove, 

For Thou wert born of woman ; Thou didst 

For mercies countless as the sands, . 

Friend after friend departs, . 

From Greenland's icy mountains, 

Full of weakness and of sin, . 

God above, look down upon me, 

God is ascended up on high, . 

God might have made this earth bring forth 

God of that glorious gift of grace, 

God scatters love on every side, 

God sent His singers upon earth, 

Go, beautiful and gentle dove, 

Go when the morning shineth, 

Go forth ! my heart is desolate, 

Great God, what do I see and hear? 

Great Lord of all things ! Power divine, 

Gracious Lord, our children see, 

Guardian angels, do we doubt them ? 

Hark ! hark ! my soul, angelic songs are swelling 
Hark ! how all the welkin rings, 



Index of First Lines. 



3$7 



Hark the glad sound ! the Saviour comes, 

Hail to the Lord's Anointed, . 

Hallowed be Thy name, 

Hast thou seen, with flash incessant, 

Have faith in Him who rules the deep, 

Have pity on them, for their life, 

Hear me, O God, 

Heart, weary heart ! what means thy wild 

Heart ! take courage, upward strive, 

Heavenly Father ! King of might, 

He changes not, but is the same for ever, 

He does well who does his best, 

He is gone — beyond the skies, 

Ho ! every one that thirsteth, 

Holy, holy, holy Lord, 

Holy, holy, holy ! unceasing anthems swelling 

Hoi} - , holy, holy ! Lord God Almighty, 

Hopeless are those who shun the Lord, 

Hosanna to the living Lord, . 

How happy is he born and taught, . 

How blest Thy creature is, O God, . 

How bright those glorious spirits shine, 

How blest the sacred tie that binds, . 

How purely true, how deeply warm, 

How sweet the fall of eve, 

Ho ! ye who in a noble work, 

I am one who holds a treasure, 

If that high world, which lies be3^ond, 

I give immortal praise, 

I got me flowers to strew thy way, . 

I heard the trailing garments of the night 

I heard the voice of Jesus say, 

I hear thee speak of the better land, 

I have a desire to depart, obeying, . 

I had a vision in the night, 

I like that ancient Saxon phrase, which call 

I mourn no more my vanish'd years, 

In the hour of my distress, 

In token that thou shalt not fear, 

In this world abideth sorrow, 

In that home was joy and sorrow, 

In Thee, O Lord, we put our trust, . 

In the sunshine, in the daytime, 

Is there an unbeliever? 

I praised the earth in beauty seen, . 

I pray at morning ere the sun 's awake, 

I sought the Lord, He heard my voice, 

Is Resignation's lesson hard ? 

1 sing the birth was born to-night, . 



I'AGE 

246 
254 
272 

36 
154 

97 
265 
227 

53 

28 
201 

61 
323 
155 
33o 
334 
327 
355 
3i3 
363 
285 
343 
267 

55 
367 



no 

"3 

3-8 

312 

5 

321 

3 

195 

140 

54 

73 

33i 

"?72 

144 

161 

275 

203 

178 

46 

10S 

142 

181 

251 



338 



Index of First L ines. 



It is written on the rose, 

It shineth on the quiet graves, 

It is the sabbath of the year, 

It is a place where tender thought, . 

It visiteth the desolate, 

I've mourn'd the dark long night away, 

I wander'd forth one Sabbath eve, 

Jerusalem the golden, 
Jerusalem, my happy home, . 
Jesu ! bless our slender boat, 
Jesus Christ is risen to-day, 
Jesus, I my cross have taken, 
Jesus shall reign where'er the sun, . 

Kind words are like the morning sun, 

Late, late, so late ! and dark the night and chill, 

Launch thy bark, mariner, . 

Labour's strong and merry children, 

Let all the world rejoice, 

Let til the world in every corner sing, 

Let the scholar and divine, 

Let them bring them to my chamber, 

Let us quit the leafy arbour, 

Let me be with Thee where Thou art, 

Like morning when her early breeze, 

Lord God of morning and of night, . 

Lord of the harvest, Thee we hail, „ 

Lord of the harvest, once again, 

Lord, in Thy name Thy servants plead, 

Lord Gc d, the Holy Ghost, . 

Lord, who shall bear day so dread, so splendid 

Lord, unto Thee we cry, 

Lord and Father of creation, 

Lord of my life, inspire my song, 

Lord, I believe : Thy power I own, . 

Lord of mercy and of might, . 

Look westward, pensive little one, , 

"Look up," cried the seaman, with nerves like steel 

Lo ! He comes with clouds descending, 

Look round, look round, 

Lost, lost, lost, 

Loud he sang the psalm of David, . 

Lullaby, lullaby, baby dear, . 

Mary to her Saviour's tomb, . 

Meek and lowly, pure and holy, 

Mourner, why this fruitless sorrow ? 

My fairest child, I have no song to give you 

My God, my Father, while I stray, . 

My God, and is Thy table spread, . 



Index of First Lines. 



Nearer, my God, to Thee, 

Never complain, though thy sorrows be many, 

Not to myself alone, . 

Not alone by the old gray towers, . 

Now, gracious Lord, Thine arm reveal, 

Now let us join with hearts and tongues, 

Now morning lifts her dewy veil, 

O day most calm, most bright, 

O father, dear father, why pass they away , 

O fair ! O purest ! be thou the dove, 

O God, whose thunder shakes the sky, 

O happy saints, who dwell in light, . 

Oh, help us, Lord! each hour of need, 

Oh ! had I Jubal's lyre, 

Oh ! never hold malice ; it poisons our life, 

Oh ! is it not a holy sight, 

Oh, send me down a draught of love, 

Oh, shame upon thee, listless heart, 

Oh ! the world is bright, and to life we cling, 

Oh, teach me to love Thee, to feel what Thou art, 

Oh ! weep for those that wept by Babel's stream, 

Oh what, if we are Christ's, . 

O Lord, my best desire fulfil, 

O Lord, how little do we know, 

O Lord, how happy should we be, . 

O Lord, I would delight in Thee, 

O mother, it is hard to die, . 

Once more, through God's high will and grace, 

One cannot choose but love the bells, 

On Jordan's bank the Arab's camels stray, 

O Paradise ! O Paradise ! 

O Ruler of the storm, whose might, 

O Spirit of the living God, 

OThou the contrite sinner's friend, . 

O Thou who dry'st the mourner's tear, 

O Thou unknown Almighty Cause, 

Pause in this desert, . 
Pour forth the oil, pour boldly forth, 
Praise the Lord of heaven, 
Praise, oh, praise our God and King, 
Praise, my soul, the King of heaven, 
Praise be Thine, most Holy Spirit, . 
Praise to God, immortal praise, 
Praise the Lord, His glories show, . 
Prayer is the soul's sincere desire, . 

Quiet, Lord, my froward heart, 

Ride on, ride on in majesty, . . 



PAGE 

279 

i47 
48 
i75 
258 
299 
308 

369 
205 

57 

125 

349 

272 

16 

29 

101 

282 

3i 

19 

9i 

150 

296 

267 



142 

4i 
88 
170 
172 
25 
332 
295 
i43 
106 

95 
219 
241 
236 
3i9 
329 
339 
35i 
261 

376 



39° 



Index of First L ines. 



Rock'd in the cradle of the deep, 
Round about and round about, 
Round the Lord in glory seated, 
Rock of ages, cleft for me, 

Say, watchman, what of the night ? 

Say, where may peace be found, 

Saviour, when in dust to Thee, 

See, the ransom'd millions stand, 

See the leaves around us falling, 

Send down Thy winged angel, God, 

Sire of the universe ! — and me, 

Since first Thy word awaked my heart, 

Since our country, our God, O my sire, 

Silence without, and calm within the dwelling, 

Sleep baby, sleep ! what ails my dear, 

Soaring nd singing, bird of the day, 

Soon — and for ever ! . 

Some murmur when the sky is clear, 

Sovereign Ruler of the skies, . 

Songs of praise the angels sang, 

Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea, 

Soft slumbers now mine eyes forsake, 

Sometimes I catch sweet glimpses of His face, 

Speak gently ! it is better far, 

Star of morn and even, 

Strew his early grave with flowers, . 

Sun of my soul, Thou Saviour dear, 

Summer is a glorious season, 

Sweet Robin, I have heard them say, 

Take them, O Death ! and bear away, 

Take your Bible with you, dear one, 

Tell me, O mother ! if I should store, 

Ten thousand thousand years, mankind may sway. 

Tell me not in mournful numbers, 

The air of death breathes through our souls, 

The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold. 

The bird let loose in eastern skies, . 

The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, 

The fashion of this world passeth away, 

The Father spake ! In grand reverberations, 

The full-orb'd moon has reach'd no higher, 

The glories of our birth and state, 

The harp the monarch minstrel swept, 

The Holy Son of God most high, 

The Head that once was crown'd with thorns, < 

The king was on his throne, . 

The Lord of hosts a feast prepares, 

The Lord of might, from Sinai's brow, 

The night is come, but not too soon, 



Index of First Lines. 



391 



The roseate hues of early dawn, 

The race that long in darkness pined, 

The seas are quiet when the winds are o'er. 

The Son of God goes forth to war, . 

The stars shine bright while earth is dark, 

The spring-tide hour, . 

The spacious firmament on high, 

The tempest rages wild and high, 

The turf shall be my fragrant shrine, 

The turf may be my lowly bed, 

The time draws near the birth of Christ, 

The time so tranquil is, and dear. 

The voice that breathed o'er Eden, . 

The wild gazelle of Judah's hills, 

The wintry west extends his blast, . 

The wilderness shall be made glad, . 

The way is long and dreary, . 

Thee we adore, eternal Lord, 

There 's a hope — 'tis not for splendour, 

There's not a bird, with lonely nest, 

There is a fountain fill'd with blood, 

There is a blessed home, 

There is a book, who runs may read, 

There is a thought so purely blest, . 

There was hope in the ark at the dawn of the day, 

There is a reaper whose name is Death, 

There is a bleak desert, where daylight grows weary 

There is no flock, however watch'd and tended, 

They tell me, dear father, each gem in the sky, 

They tell us that the deep sea hath 

This is the day the Lord of life, 

This world is not our home, . 

Thou art gone to the grave, but we will not deplore thee, 

Thou hast sworn by thy God, my Jeanie, 

Thou art, O God, the life and light, . 

Thou wert fair, Lady Mary, . 

Thou, great Creator, art possest, 

Thou art with me, ever with me, 

Thou whose almighty word, 

Through sorrow's path and danger's road, 

Though rude winds usher thee, sweet day, 

Thy mercies are great, 

'Tis human lot to meet and bear, 

To God be glory in the highest, 

To Him who for our sins was slain, 

To Thy temple I repair, 

Triumphal arch, that fill'st the sky, 

Trust in the Lord in sorrow's hour, 

Two angels, one of Life and one of Death, 

'Twas a lovely thought to mark the hours, 



250 
42 
35i 
187 
222 
233 
39 
102 

113 
170 
211 
375 
24 
93 
192 

303 
235 
213 

234 
302 

353 
22 
68 

99 

107 

T24 

190 

216 

112 

37o 

26 

16 

75 

148 

149 

236 

288 

333 
229 
247 
269 
130 
146 
3i7 
368 
151 
27 



392 



Index of First L hies. 



Upon a leafy mountain height, 
Up to the throne of God is borne, 

Vain folly of another age, 
Vital spark of heavenly flame, 

Weep, weep for him, the man of God, 

We sing His love, who once was slain, 

Weary wanderer through the desert, 

Were not the sinful Mary's tears, 

We read on the historic page, 

We sate down and wept by the waters, 

We watch'd her breathing through the night, 

What are these in bright array, 

What are the wild waves saying, 

What hid'st thou in thy treasure-caves and cells, 

What though my harp and viol be, . 

When at Thy footstool, Lord, I bend, 

When gathering clouds around I view, 

When God of old came down from heaven, 

When Tsrael, of the Lord beloved, . 

When in thy bosom the wrath has been kindled, 

When Jesus left His Father's throne, 

When Lazarus left his charnel cave, . 

When marshall'd on the nightly plain, 

When murky clouds obscure the sky, 

When our heads are bow'd with woe, 

When spring unlocks the flowers, 

When through the day we meet with care, 

When the hours of day are numbered, 

When the dying flame of day, 

When we awake at early morn, 

When weeping o'er some sacred spot, 

When wounded sore the stricken soul, 

Where are the plains of Zion, 

Where is your dwelling, ye sainted ? 

Where the remote Bermudas ride, . 

Why do the flowers bloom, mother, 

Why am I loath to leave this earthly scene 

Why love I the lily bell ?..•', 

Why should we bring a broken heart ? 

While shepherds watch'd their flocks by nig 

Within this leaf to every eye, 

With tearful eyes I look around, 

Ye sons of earth, prepare the plough, 



Ballantyne, Roberts, and Co:, Printers, Edinburgh. 



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